


Defend Not The Man, But The Mind

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: Bellator 'Verse [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Conservation, Dehumanization, Depression, Dubious Morality, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endangered Species, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Mental Breakdown, Mpreg, Multi, Nightmares, On the Run, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self Harm, Self-Discovery, Serious Injuries, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Team Arrow, Temporary Amnesia, asexual reproduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 161,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where scientists attempted to genetically engineer the perfect super soldier by experimenting with combining different DNA, but their experiments went wrong and the subjects escaped, Oliver Queen returns to Starling City no longer human, and with no memory of his past life.</p><p>Conservationists are desperate to investigate, categorise and preserve the new, critically endangered species of <i>homo bellator custos</i>, but Oliver's not exactly on board with cooperating, not when he's got a duty to fulfil and a city to protect and save.</p><p>But then things start getting more complicated when he starts to remember; he begins finding allies in humans he thinks he knew in his past, and a certain blonde IT girl gets pulled into the mix.</p><p>NEW - <b>Chapter 32: The Frameshift Uploaded </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, to start with, this idea hit me at two in the morning on a fan fiction writing frenzy and it would not stop until I wrote it down. It's absolutely crazy, my English teacher thinks I need mental help because of it, but my friends all think it's kinda cool and encouraged me to continue it... so I have.
> 
> My beta is ironyruinedmylife and she is awesome, no seriously she is one of the best friends ever.
> 
> Please leave kudos or comment with your general first impressions or ideas on it. I'm asking for a lot for people to like this, I know, it's really kind of insane, but I have enjoyed writing this, so hopefully you will enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the characters (except Pamela Price but she's not in this chapter, so...) belong to me. I wish Arrow did, but sadly it does not.
> 
> I will post warnings in the future for chapter content, but just for now -  
> Warning: This fan fiction will in the future reference Male Self-Impregnation due to the nature of the species.

* * *

He only knows five things.

The first is that his name is Oliver. He can’t remember his last name, nor anything else about himself. He can’t remember if he had family and he can’t remember anything about his past life.

The second is that he lives in Starling City. He doesn’t know why he was drawn here, but there must be some connection between his past life and the city. His first instinct when he had escaped had been to come here. Starling City is his home.

The third is that he is not human. He doesn’t know what he is, because he looks human, but he certainly doesn’t act it, and doesn’t feel like it. He had escaped from _that place_ away from _those people_ and he can hardly remember anything that happened then either, but he knows, without a doubt that he is not human. He’s something else.

The fourth is that he was created, born, made or _something_ , he’s not sure what, to protect people. Well. Either protect people, or kill people. He’s not sure yet which. Starling City is his territory to hunt in, and he could hurt anybody, anyone. But for the people in the city, he feels responsibility to protect them from harm, to save them from… _something_.

The last is that he is terrified.

He doesn’t know why. That is probably what terrifies him most of all.

* * *

Oliver is learning. He doesn’t know quite how long he has been living in Starling City yet; he set up a den in some dark basement of a long-ago abandoned steel factory in the slums, what the people of Starling call ‘the Glades’. But he is learning; within three days, he has taught himself to read. Within a week, he has taught himself to write.

Oliver has a small bag of what he presumes are things that used to belong to whoever he was in the past that he can’t remember. Inside that bag is a bow and a quiver full of arrows. The bow feels good. It feels right to be in his hand. It takes a while, but he teaches himself to shoot. He practises and practises, shooting arrows into walls and random objects before he can fire the bow with his eyes closed and still hit the target.

He finds his way into a junkyard in the outskirts of the city and he finds a computer. He tears it apart piece by piece and learns how to put it together again, and teaches himself how to use it, how to write code, how to hack and manipulate technology.

He has also learnt a very, very important thing:

_Humans = danger._

There must be a million or so humans in Starling City. They’re all different, they speak funny and have strange emotions. Oliver is aware that he, himself, looks human. But he knows that he could _never_ fit in with them. Humans are weird. They’re complicated and individual and threatening. They corrupt and destroy and they're so strange; they judge and hurt and isolate and kill each other, when really, fundamentally, they're all the same species, with the same ultimate goal of living.

Humans have weapons, and he doesn't just mean physical ones.

They can hurt him. They can kill him. He doesn’t like them at all.

But _humans = danger_. If he wants to keep out of that danger, deal with the threat they pose, he needs to understand them.

Oliver uses the computer he has built and understands to tune into TV channels. He observes, and watches, and makes mental notes and calculates for hours on end, hunched up in his den, curled up in a nest of scavenged blankets and pillows.

He learns English. He learns Spanish. He learns Russian. He learns Mandarin. Human language is difficult. When he practices, he finds that his voice, which he has imitated from the TV, is stilted and cold. He doesn’t mind. It’s not like he’ll be using it much.

Oliver is learning. While he has learnt to read, write, use technology and speak human language, he has learnt something very different as well. Humans = danger, but there are different types of humans. Before, Oliver had known that he was meant to protect, and save. He is meant to protect good humans. Humans with children, with good lives and good jobs. Humans who are friendly and helpful and kind.

_Good humans = duty to protect._

But then, Oliver learns that there are bad humans. Humans who hurt and harm and kill and exploit good humans. Humans who have twisted minds and lots and lots of money, so that they can manipulate good humans into doing bad things, and then making them become bad humans.

_Bad humans = duty to eliminate._

* * *

Oliver likes the colour green.

When he arrived in Starling City, he had a small collection of belongings. He had a bow, a quiver full of arrows, dark green leather pants and a green leather jacket with a hood. He likes that green hood. He wears it all the time. It feels right to wear it, it feels like home. Home is Starling City, home is safe.

Green is the color of life and energy. Green is safety, harmony, evolution.

Green is _balance_. Starling City needs balance. It needs balance between good humans and bad humans.

It’s Oliver’s duty to create that balance. Oliver doesn’t know much, he’s still learning, but he knows this for sure. It feels right. It feels good. So when Oliver begins his duty, starts his mission, to protect the good humans and eliminate the bad humans, to protect and defend his territory of Starling City, he wears his green hood.

* * *

Oliver threatens the bad humans.

He tells them, in a stilted voice, that they have failed Starling City. And they have. They have stolen money and ruined good humans’ lives. They should be punished. Oliver has to create the balance.

When they don’t listen to him, he shoots them. When they still don’t listen to him, he kills them.

* * *

Oliver learns something new about a month into his duty to protect and defend Starling City.

_Police = obstacle._

The police are kind of like him. The police is a collective body of good humans and they protect and save other good humans. But they don’t like Oliver. They don’t like him at all.

When they see Oliver when he has dealt with a bad human, they threaten him. They point weapons at him and tell him that he is bad. Oliver thinks they are just confused. He is not bad. He is good. He is saving and protecting good humans, and punishing bad ones. He is creating the balance. The police are trying to do that too.

Maybe they don’t understand that he’s doing the same thing they are doing. Maybe they just don’t recognise that it is Oliver’s duty.

Whatever the police think, they are an obstacle. Oliver is annoyed by them. They get in the way and stop him from creating the balance. Sometimes, when they know he is coming, they stop protecting the good humans and instead protect the bad ones.

There is one police human, one good human, that Oliver is irritated at the most. His name is Quentin Lance and he holds a title. The other humans call him a _detective_. Oliver isn’t sure what that means, but it must mean that he has authority, because he can order humans around and take charge.

The detective chases Oliver. He chases him away from the good humans and even sometimes the bad humans, and shouts and yells at him in human language that he is bad, that he is evil and he is going to go to a human place called prison, where they keep the bad people.

This confuses Oliver the most.

Does the detective not understand that he is good? They are doing the same thing. They are protecting good humans and punishing the bad ones. The police may mess that up sometimes, but maybe they’re just not as intelligent as Oliver is. Maybe sometimes the things they can see are unclear.

Oliver may find the police annoying and irritating and they may interfere in his duty, but they aren’t bad. He can cope with their meddling. He thinks he can cope with anything.

* * *

Something is _wrong_.

It's been three months since Oliver first learnt about the police, and the police don’t try and stop him anymore.

They don’t threaten him with weapons, or yell at him, or protect the bad humans that Oliver’s duty says he has to eliminate. Instead, they stay back. They wait until Oliver is done and then move in to clean up whatever mess has been created.

Oliver doesn’t believe that they now suddenly think that he is good.

It must be something else. Because when he gets curious and sticks around, waiting to see what their reaction to him is, they still glare and scowl and act cold towards him like they still think he is bad.

_What’s going on?_

Oliver deals with a man called Brandon Wickham one night. Lance drives up in his police car and steps out and begins ordering other humans in the police force to take the body away and find out what happened. Oliver perches on the fire escape of the building opposite, half in the shadows and half in the light, hoping Lance notices him.

He hopes that Lance’s reaction to his presence will enlighten him on what is going on.

Lance notices him. The human barks angrily at the other humans on the police force, pulls away from the crowd and then begins striding towards Oliver furiously. Adrenalin kicks in inside Oliver’s body and he swings down easily from the fire escape to face the detective, bow in hand.

Lance stops about two metres away from him and that kicks off the warning bells in Oliver’s head. Lance has never been hesitant to approach him before. In fact, Lance has never been hesitant to threaten him; more than once the detective has pulled his weapon on Oliver while yelling at him, and has chased him away.

Oliver’s instinct that something is wrong, is right.

Something is definitely wrong.

“You taunting us by staying around?” Lance thunders at him, the human simply radiating hatred. “You getting off by knowing you can kill people and we can’t do anything about it? You know, I didn’t believe those conservation guys when they said you aren’t human, but now, seeing you killing all these guys without a care in the world… Nobody human would be able to do that without feeling some regret or guilt. But you don’t feel either. Makes me sick. Go on, get outta here.”

When Oliver doesn’t move, Lance pull out his weapon. If what Oliver has just heard from the man is correct, Lance isn’t allowed to hurt him, so the detective isn’t much of a threat, but the human’s aggression towards him (humans = danger) is enough to make Oliver dart back into the shadows out of sight, clambering to the top of the building so he can watch the police clean up the scene below from there.

If Oliver was confused before, now he doesn’t have a clue about what is going on.

What is Lance talking about? What conservation humans? Are there humans out there that know what he is?

Dread strikes through him and makes Oliver stagger backwards. Are _those people_ , the bad humans he escaped from that created him, bred him, here in Starling City? Have _they_ come back to capture him?

No, it can’t be _them_. If it were _those people_ , they wouldn’t have bothered telling the police not to back off. And _they_ would’ve caught him by now.

There must be new humans out there that are interested in him.

What does that even mean?

* * *

Oliver is hunting one night for food, for a rabbit or deer or squirrel he can feed on, so he can refill his depleted energy reserves, when he realises in horror that he is being followed.

He panics.

He abandons the hunt and runs, for miles on end, his heart thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings in his chest and heaving with exertion. He hoists himself up into a tree and shudders, hidden by the dense vegetation.

Why are humans following him?

He’s too shaken to move and head back to his den, so he sinks back against the trunk of the tree, curls up and dozes. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, but it has to be more than an hour. He began his hunt in the early hours of the evening so that when night fell he could track down another bad human; now, the moon is rising slowly and darkness is descending. It’s too late for him to head out and fulfil his duty now.

Oliver’s about to jump down from the tree, planning to slink back to his nest, when a torch beam dances over the bushes and foliage metres beneath him.

He freezes.

_Humans._

And they’re searching for him.

He can hear their hushed whispers and their faint noises of irritation at having lost him. They’re talking about scouring the small woods once again to find him, but then one of the humans suggests that he has probably moved on or been spooked by their movements. The only reassurance Oliver gets is that they aren’t those people, they’re different humans, from a different place.

Maybe they’re those conservation humans Lance was talking about.

The humans grumble but leave on agreement that he won’t return to the woods tonight.

Oliver is internally freaking out. To hear the humans talking about him is unsettling. He doesn’t like it. It makes him anxious and concerned; he can’t remember much about _that place_ , but he can remember _those people_ talking about him like he wasn’t there. Like he was just a dumb animal.

He’s definitely not a dumb animal. If he has to prove it, he will.

* * *


	2. The Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is confronted by two strangely familiar humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all of your support with this fanfic. You guys have honestly really motivated me to continue writing with your kind words. Your comments have uplifted me and I'm steamrolling out parts at the moment.
> 
> I've also noticed that this fic has been recommended by Olicity Fanfic Rec tumblrs and twitters and I am so, so honoured. Thank you so so much tumblr and twitter uses. It means a lot. Thank you again to my beta, ironyruinedmylife, who is sinceriously the bae. Head over to her profile and read some of her fanfics, her Flash Hartley-centric one Siren Song is amazing.
> 
> If anybody has any questions at all, you can ask in the comments. Really appreciate all you guys have said and the support.
> 
> Thank you! Enjoy the chapter.

Oliver has adopted the habit of sticking around after he has dealt with a bad human, to watch Lance and the police. Lance still sometimes yells at him angrily, but now the detective seems to have accepted that the police can’t stop Oliver; now, when the detective spots him crouched on the top of a building or hovering on a fire escape, Lance gazes at him for a moment before turning away. Oliver’s pretty sure that Lance has started to look at him and Oliver’s actions objectively.

That changes when one day, Lance makes a call on his cell phone and the conservation humans turn up to try and get a good look at him.

Oliver doesn’t know whether he is feeling betrayed, exasperated or nervous.

When he begins to head back to his den for the night, he stays on the edge of the top of the buildings he uses in his journey back. He wants to know what the conservation humans want with him, but he’s wary of them. He’s ever too aware of _humans = danger_ , and he doesn’t want to get too close.

The conservation humans follow him in cars and sometimes they take pictures. They don’t act hostile, point weapons at him or yell and shout at him furiously like the police do. So unlike the police, who are interested in him only because they want to capture him and lock him up like one of the bad humans Oliver cleanses Starling of, these conservation humans are interested in him because of something else.

_Why?_

Why are they interested in him?

He loses them miles away from his den, but he still feels uncertain and scared. What happens if they find his den? He likes his den, and doesn’t want to move because of intruding humans. Moving would take weeks; he has built a computer set-up, and racks for his arrows and an area for him to exercise in; it would take months for him to make a nest as warm and lovely and perfect as the one he has now.

He decides he can’t ever let them follow him home.

Now, whenever he waits and watches the police arrive on the scene after he has killed a bad human, whenever Lance catches sight of him, the detective calls the conservation humans. If the detective is trying to put Oliver off sticking around, then he is definitely succeeding. Oliver feels hurt by this - he thought that Lance was starting to warm up to him a little, but it’s obvious now that isn’t the case.

The conservation humans try and follow him to his den many, many times.

They never succeed. But sometimes they get close.

This is a problem. Oliver begins to realise this is more serious than he thought.

* * *

Oliver returns, exhausted, after a tiring night protecting his city, planning on shucking the hood and curling up in his nest for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He has been out for more than six hours, and four of those were spent trying to lose the conservationists tracking him. He has to give it to them - they’re pretty determined humans.

He sleeps for as long as he can. But then, a clattering from above shocks him awake; the loud noise startles him and he leaps upwards and onto the balls of his feet.

There’s an intruder in his den.

He yanks on his jacket and pulls up his hood so it shadows his face, grabbing his bow and strapping on his quiver before clambering up easily onto the support beams of the abandoned factory.

He only has to wait a few minutes before the intruder reveals itself.

Correction. _Intruders._

It’s two humans. A brunette female in a smart suit and a dark haired male in more casual ware. They’re arguing, but in a playful, teasing way, from what Oliver can tell. He shifts in his perch, bow gripped in hand and he narrows his eyes at them. He’s only seen the conservation humans a few times, but none of them look like the two humans invading his den; he can only think that these two humans have wandered into his den not knowing it was here, or what to expect.

But they seem familiar.

Oliver doesn’t know why. He’s certain that he’s never seen them before, or at least since he arrived in Starling City to begin creating the balance. Maybe they were somehow present in his past that he can’t remember.

“Come on, Laurel, what do you think?” The male twirls around in a circle with a large grin, spreading his arms out as if to present the space. “This place’ll make the perfect night club.”

“Honestly, Tommy, it’s a dump,” the female, now identified as Laurel, tells the male. Oliver perks up slightly in interest. Are these two humans mates? “The Queens should’ve given it to you for free, not just given you a discount. And the location? In the Glades? None of our friends would come here.”

“I know, I know,” the male, Tommy, replies, rolling his eyes. “Risky. But I’m Tommy Merlyn, right?” He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. “People would stand in line for 3 hours if I opened a club. We make it a successful business, we gentrify the neighborhood.”

“Wow.” Laurel nods, looking amused. “Such a hero.” She sighs. “Well at least show me the place, tell me what you’re planning. I can tell you want to impress me. So go head, impress me.”

“Well, I do love a challenge,” Tommy grins.

Before Oliver can even think of stopping them, Tommy and Laurel begin exploring the abandoned factory, making occasional comments. He’s scared, terrified really, that they’ll discover his den and all his equipment in the basement and call the police and conservationists; if that happens, he’ll have to go on the run, move his den.

Oliver inhales a shuddering silent breath and quietly jumps across onto another support beam so he can observe the two intruding humans from above.

He needs to drive them away, but he can’t.

_Humans = danger._

And these two don’t seem like bad humans. They’re good humans. And Oliver can’t hurt them. It’s his duty to protect good humans, and it suddenly kicks the wind out of him when he realises that he doesn’t want to hurt them.

They’re familiar to him, and he thinks that maybe he used to know them somehow. They’re a connection to his past that he can’t remember, and that means they’re too _important_ to kill.

In all of his pondering and thinking, he hasn’t been paying attention to Laurel and Tommy, and by the time he snaps back to attention, it’s too late.

They’ve found the stairs down to the basement that Oliver could never be bothered to block up, and their curiosity is leading them down into his den.

Laurel makes a disgusted noise as she tears apart cobwebs to climb down, but Tommy seems intrigued, bounding ahead excitedly at having discovered something new. Oliver silently falls from the support beams, out of the cover of darkness and hurries out of the building to the secret entrance, a hidden side door that leads straight into his den.

Both Laurel and Tommy are gasping in astonishment, making shocked, wondrous noises, surrounded by the racks of arrows Oliver has made and the computer set-up. The pair are seemingly silent with awe and stupefaction as they slowly and cautiously prowl around the den.

Neither of them have yet noticed that Oliver has slipped in and is tensed like a wolf preparing to pounce, concealed by murky shadows.

Oliver feels a growl pool at the base of his throat when Tommy strides towards one of the racks, raising his hands as if he’s about the lift an arrow up and examine it, but his held-back snarl dies when Laurel rushes forwards and slaps his hands away from the projectile.

“Don’t touch anything!” she hisses. “You do know what this is, right?” The disbelief and amazement in her eyes has fizzled out, replaced by fear and doubt.

“My first thought was secret government facility,” Tommy swallows, keeping his voice low and quiet. “But now -”

“This is clearly the Hood’s lair,” Laurel whispers urgently. “We shouldn’t be here, we definitely shouldn’t be here. He could be anywhere - what are you doing?” Her whispers have increased in volume with her incredulity.

Tommy has pulled out his cell phone and dialled a number quickly, putting the phone up to his ear as he glances around. “Calling the conservationists. They’ve been trying to find the Hood’s cave for months, the least we can do is give them the location before we get out of here.”

Oliver goes stock still in horror. No. The conservationist humans can’t know where his den is. If they find it, he’ll have to move, and they might find and take something important that he needs for his duties.

Laurel’s eyes are wide. “Tommy, you can’t -”

“He’s an endangered species, Laurel,” Tommy argues back, turning away and waiting for somebody to pick up his call. “And your dad must have gone about him god knows how many times. If they know where his den is, they might be able to track him down, get him under some real protection.”

The line connects with a click and Tommy’s about to speak when Oliver leaps up, draws his bow and fires an arrow all within half a second. His aim is so precise that it knocks the phone out of Tommy’s hand and pins it to the wall behind him without even skimming the surface of the skin on the human’s hand.

Laurel lets out a shocked scream, jumping backwards into Tommy, and the male human yelps like an injured animal, bringing his hand to his chest like he’s been burnt. Both humans whip around to look at him, as Oliver steps out of the shadows shyly and cautiously, never more grateful for the hood that hides his face.

“Oh my god,” Laurel says, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t call them,” Oliver says. It’s the first time he’s spoken in days and his voice is hoarse and rough, his language stilted and strained. “Please, don’t call them.”

Tommy’s eyes are round and wide. “You can _talk_.”

“Yes,” Oliver responds. He doesn’t know why that’s news to them; he’s spoken many times before, even sometimes made quips to the police. He’s aware that both of the humans are backing away in fright, so he shakes his head and places his bow on the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Really?” Laurel snarks disbelievingly. “You’ve killed dozens of people, what makes us any different?”

“It’s my duty to protect good humans,” Oliver tells her dismissively. He’s more worried about what he heard Tommy saying to Laurel before. “What did you mean by endangered species? Why are those humans trying to follow me? What do they want?”

Tommy and Laurel, sandwiched together, stare at him like he’s crazy, or stupid. But Oliver honestly does not know what they’re talking about. He gazes back at them, silently willing them to explain.

He wants to know what’s going on; he doesn’t understand what endangered means or what Tommy meant by getting him under ‘real protection’.

But as the silence prevails, something softens in Laurel’s eyes and she takes a small step forwards. Oliver stiffens and lets out a growl, his eyes flashing. Laurel and Tommy may be good humans, but they still pose a danger to him. The two of them eye him intensely, trying to read his emotions and Oliver only hopes his fear isn’t visible, because he’s truly terrified.

"Oh my god, you have no idea, do you?" Laurel says gently, tears springing to her eyes. "They've been chasing you for months and you have no idea why." She shakes her head, clearly upset. "When Dad told me before that you just gave him the cold shoulder whenever he spoke to you about the conservation, I thought that maybe you were just too arrogant to care, but you _can't_ care because you don't _know_."

Oliver doesn't know, she's right, and nothing scares him more than that. When he next speaks, his voice wobbles slightly in unease. "What are you talking about?"

"You must be terrified," Laurel continues, now freely crying, one shaking hand coming up to cover her mouth. "You must be really, truly scared because you have all these humans paying attention to you, trying to follow you around and take pictures and - and - you have absolutely no clue why. Do you?"

There is another silence, but this time it is brief. Oliver breaks it by murmuring, "No, I don't."

"Jesus." Tommy looks shocked and appalled. "Has nobody explained to you what you are?"

"You're the first humans I've had a proper conversation with," Oliver replies stiffly. "All the others seem to think I'm some dumb animal that can't think or comprehend human language."

“Yeah, well, maybe if you spoke to the police or conservationists like you’re speaking to us now, that wouldn’t be a problem.” Tommy’s growing more confident every minute, now actively facing him.

Oliver doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s true, he could have talked to the police or the conservation humans properly before; he’s had plenty of chances to speak to Lance. But he’s always been hesitant about speaking to humans; even when he faces off against one of his targets, he only speaks to them if he has to, if threatening them instead of killing them will restore the balance.

These two humans are different, he knows it. He can talk to them easily, and he’s not afraid to do so.

He looks between the two of them. "Are you going to explain to me what I am?"

Tommy and Laurel exchange helpless expressions. Oliver’s heart sinks in his chest. If these two won’t tell him what’s going on, nobody will. He might as well give up trying to understand now.

“Do you understand what an endangered species is?” Tommy asks. Oliver shakes his head. “It’s a species, a kind of animal, that’s really rare and is at risk of becoming extinct and dying out altogether.” He waves his hands. “Conservationists are humans that protect endangered species from going extinct.”

Oliver still doesn’t think he completely understands. “And I’m… part of an endangered species?” he questions, his eyebrows furrowing.

Laurel takes a deep breath, beginning to take steady, slow steps towards him, her hands up placatingly. “You’re part of a species called homo bellator custos. Scientists and conservationists think that you were originally humans but experimented on, genetically modified, to become your own species. They don’t know exactly how many of you there are across the world, but they’ve only come across five individuals so far, you included, and they’ve only been able to do that by studying your movements and habits.”

“Your latin name literally translates into warrior guardian,” Tommy continues for Laurel. “Scientists think you were created to be enhanced super soldiers, but something went wrong in the genetic coding so you became… this. Something about recessive genes being mutated into dominant ones, base pairings going wrong… I don’t understand it, I don’t think many people do, but that’s how they’re explaining it. Your species adopts a territory, and becomes fiercely protective over it, protecting and defending it from crime.” He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s about all the conservationists are willing to reveal to the public.”

Oliver swallows, trying to process all this information at once. Suddenly, everything the two humans are saying makes perfect sense. That place where he was born, bred, created… he remembers white walls and needles and cold, cold humans, and others… there were others of his kind there. He desperately needs to know more.

“So these conservationists,” Oliver says slowly, still not quite trusting his mouth to produce coherent human speech. “They’re trying to… protect me? How?”

“From what I know from my Dad and the news…” Laurel bites her lip. “Well, nobody’s exactly sure. At the moment they’re trying to track your movements, find your den. There was talk a few days ago of capturing you, giving you a medical check-up and implanting a satellite tracker.”

“And these are… good humans?” Laurel and Tommy are confusing him. Before they were saying that these conservationists were trying to protect him, but now they are saying they want to capture and do tests on him?

“I… I guess so,” Laurel nods. “I don’t know much more but… my Dad’s leading the Hood investigation task-force and he’s got a massive file on you and your species at home that the leader of the conservationists, Pamela Price, gave him.” Unsure, she suggests quietly, “Maybe I could bring it down here and you could take a look at it?”

Oliver backs up, keeping his posture tense and alert, lowering his head. Are these two humans actually trying to help him, or are they leading him into a trap? He’s never experienced human compassion before; he’s read up all about it, sure, but humans have always seemed like a bitter species.

Everything that Oliver knows tells him not to trust Tommy and Laurel; everything that Oliver knows tells him not to trust any human, _ever_.

“Why are you helping me?” Oliver asks, because there has to be some catch here.

“Because I think you’re maybe a little bit scared of everything that’s going on,” Laurel says softly. “And because I think that nobody has shown you any actual kindness in a long time.” She glances around the den. “We’re not going to tell anybody that your den is here, I promise, so you don’t have to move or anything.”

Oliver breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he replies, because that’s the human custom, but he’s never been more sincere. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Tommy says, “All considering that it’s humans that’ve been giving you so much grief over the last few months and you didn’t even know why. And… maybe if you learn about the conservation, you’ll let them help you?”

Tommy and Laurel leave that morning with small smiles on their faces and a spring in their step.

Oliver knows that he shouldn’t be trusting these humans with the location of his den, or his safety, but he likes them. They’re trying to help him understand, and nobody else has tried to do that.

Oliver finds himself anticipating their next visit.

He’s been alone for a long time, and he’s starting to realise that maybe he doesn’t have to be.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos or comment! Any questions will be answered to my best ability and I really appreciate hearing from you guys!


	3. The Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain blonde IT girl enters the framework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am stunned by the response to this fanfic. Just wow, guys. Wow. Thank you so much for all your support. It's amazing. I've sped up writing and already have written up to Part 10. This is amazing. All of your comments and questions are so thoughtful and philosophical as well. It's great to know that the ethics of what Oliver is doing, and what others are doing to him, and his journey in learning about humanity, is interesting you. Once again thank you my beta ironyruinedmylife, she's my bae.
> 
> If you have questions, comments, you can comment below on the fic or you can visit me on twitter @lexiblackbriar where I will gladly take questions. Thank you so, so much, all of you.
> 
> Onwards with the story! *leads charge* Guess who is finally getting introduced to Oliver? (I sense Olicity brewing...)

Tommy and Laurel return in two days, with a file full of information on the species _homo bellator custos_ just as promised, but also with a surprise.

They’ve brought a new human along with them, a nervous blonde with glasses that talks at lightning fast speed, so fast that Oliver’s mind can’t even comprehend the human language she’s speaking.

At first, Oliver is defensive.

He hears Tommy’s car before he can see it, the deep rumble of a motor engine as he parks it outside the abandoned factory. Oliver yanks his hood up and grabs his quiver and bow, preparing to greet them. He doesn’t yet trust the pair of humans enough to show them his face, or let them know his name, but he knows that in time, if Laurel and Tommy keep their word not to reveal the location of his den, there will eventually come a time when he’s comfortable enough with them.

Oliver drops down from the support beams above in front of Tommy and Laurel, making them both jump, and he inclines his head in greeting, making a small curious noise, that could be interpreted as a purr.

But then the blonde steps out from where she is hiding slightly behind Tommy and Laurel, giving an awkward wave and sheepish grin, and Oliver immediately sinks down into a lower position, tensing his muscles in preparation to either run or fight, and he unleashes a fierce and threatening snarl.

“Hey, _whoa_!” Laurel tries to protest, the palms of her hands held out to stop him as she steps in front of the blonde protectively. “She’s a friend! She’s here to help!”

Just the fact the blonde doesn’t look afraid, but more intrigued, makes Oliver relax slightly, straightening up but still growling lowly, glaring between Tommy and Laurel, demanding an explanation.

They had sworn not to tell anybody, and then they just bring this random blonde girl into his den?

“Hi, I’m Felicity,” the blonde introduces herself nervously, straightening her glasses on her nose. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me and clearly, I’m intruding your den and stuff without invitation, not that you’d ever invite anybody to invade your den but I swear, I’m just here to help.” She wrings her hands anxiously. “I accidentally overheard Tommy and Laurel talking about you, and I’m kind of rude and don’t know when to stop eavesdropping, so I heard them mention you had a computer set-up, and I don’t know if you know this, but if you don’t have the right firewalls and encryption the police will be able to track you by your coding back to here. I work in IT at Queen Consolidated so I just thought I might offer my IT expertise and maybe if you’ll let me I’ll put up some better security for you.”

Oliver can tell that she’s telling the truth, and he can’t imagine that a girl this nervous could ever be a threat to him. She slightly amuses him as well, for some reason, so after examining all of the three humans’ faces for a few minutes, he finally relents and nods, leading them down into the basement, into his den.

Felicity walks straight past his arrows and is instantly mesmerised by his computer set-up.

Oliver doesn’t know whether he should laugh or growl in annoyance.

“This is a pretty good set-up,” Felicity says, impressed. “Did you build this yourself? How did you learn to do this?”

“I found a computer in a junk yard,” Oliver tells her, not even sure why he is, but feeling like he should reply. “I took it apart and put it together again until I learnt how to do it properly, then taught myself how to code and built this.”

All three of the humans look shocked and impressed. Oliver unstraps his quiver and puts it on the counter, placing his bow down as well as he clears a space on the counter top for Laurel to put the massive file she is holding.

“Can I have a look at your programs?” Felicity questions, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of his computer screen, looking like she is itching to start typing. “I won’t change anything, I swear, I have the utmost respect for other people’s programming skills and would never mess with anybody’s work that isn’t mine."

Oliver doesn’t know what makes him agree, but he nods. “Go ahead.”

Felicity lights up and turns away, clicking and typing. Oliver smiles.

Laurel and Tommy open the file and begin sorting through papers and notes, making piles based on different things. Oliver makes sure he angles his face away from them as he sits down and starts to read; the hood may cast a pretty concealing shadow over his face, but if the light hits him at just the right angle, the hood will be useless.

“This is crazy,” Tommy says, flicking through a fifty page monthly report. “They never release any of this information to the media.” He frowns, thumbing through another few pages. “Not they’ve actually got much. They’ve literally been stalking you for months and they’ve hardly got any information on you at all.”

“Ever since they arrived in Starling, I’ve been careful.” Human language comes much more easily to him now; he’s spoken more in the last week to these humans than he has in months. “I haven’t let them get too close, I change the routes I take to-and-from here and I make sure never to leave any of my DNA behind.”

“You’d think they’d catch on that you’re intelligent,” Laurel muses, “Considering you’ve evaded capture for so long. Hey, look at this -” She slid a couple of papers across the table to him. “These are profiles about the other known members of your species. Why don't you have a look?"

Oliver cautiously takes them and reads through them. There are four other _homo bellator custos_ known to the conservationists; two of them have first names, probably remembered after escaping from that place, and the other two have code names unrecognisable to Oliver. But there are _pictures_ ; pictures of all four of them, undisguised, and within seconds Oliver is gasping, hands flat on the table and emotions overwhelming him, because _he knows them_. He can actually _remember_ them, he can remember their faces, and he remembers their cries and wails of terror and pain and fear as _those people_ tore them apart and remade them.

He doesn’t realise Laurel has a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, urgently telling him that it’s alright, that’s he’s in his den in Starling City and he’s safe. All of a sudden, he snaps out of it and his hand lurches upwards to grab hold of Laurel’s wrist in a strong grip. There’s a faint horrifying crack. Laurel makes a small noise of pain and fixes wide eyes on him, and Oliver leaps backwards feeling stung and horrified by himself.

His mind is a complete mess, and he nearly hurt one of the only human allies he has because of it.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, reeling backwards and feeling like an absolute monster. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy’s already holding Laurel in his arms, looking at him with an unreadable expression and Oliver’s vision is swimming as he falls back against the wall, sliding down onto his backside on top of his crumpled nest of blankets and pillows, feeling so, so ashamed and his head pounding, sending spikes of pain all the way through his body to his nerve endings.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soft voice says. It’s only a moment before Felicity focuses in front of him; she’s kneeling about half a metre away from him, far enough back so he can’t lash out at her if he panics, but close enough that he’s comforted by her presence. “Hey, Hood guy? Sorry, I don’t know your name… You’re in your den in the Glades, in Starling City. You’re with me and Laurel and Tommy, you’re safe.”

He peeks up at the blonde through his shaking hands that he’s covered his face with. “I know,” he whispers lowly, his voice rough again. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t - I wasn’t -”

“We know you didn’t mean it,” Felicity says, her eyes gentle and holding such a depth of understanding that it makes Oliver want to cry out in relief. “Laurel’s fine. I checked it, her wrist joint just clicked in and out. You didn’t break anything.” She bites her lip. “Was it a flashback? A memory?”

Oliver inhales a shuddering breath. “I _knew_ them. I _know_ them.”

Felicity frowns at him for a second before rising, swiping the papers from the counter top. She returns and slides down the wall next to him, handing them to him and nodding in encouragement.

Oliver flips through the papers, his eyes settling on each individual photo.

“I remember them,” he says. “I can’t remember much about _that place_ or what _those people_ did to me there but I remember them. Sometimes it comes back in bits and pieces and I feel like - I feel like they were…” He struggles to find a word to describe it. They weren’t family but they were more than just allies to him.

“They were your friends,” Felicity finishes for him.

“Yeah,” he says.

Felicity lays a hand on top of his and squeezes it. He stiffens at the human contact and whips his head around to stare at her, his blue eyes piercing. But Felicity isn’t going to hurt him, he knows that. This is the human kindness Laurel had been talking about.

Oliver likes it. He likes human kindness very, very much.

“It’s going to be okay,” Felicity tells him. “I promise you, everything is going to be okay.” Oliver’s shaking his head, closing his eyes, but Felicity’s firm voice breaks him out of his thoughts: “Hey. _Trust_ me. Everything is going to be okay.”

Oliver doesn’t see how, but he nods anyway in agreement. Something strange and weird feeling inside of him is telling him that he can trust Felicity, just like that weird feeling that told him a few days ago that he could trust Laurel and Tommy. “Okay,” he replies simply.

Felicity springs to her feet, stretching. “Now. I have some advice for you on how to improve your little tech set-up here, but first -” She narrows her eyes at him, her glasses falling down her nose slightly. “What do we call you name-wise?”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy steps up. “Well, we figured that if you do have a name, you’re not going to want to give it to us, so what do you want us to call you? I mean, it will be pretty awkward if we have to call you by your Latin species name every time we want to address you or something.” His chuckles are dry, but hold humour. Whatever Tommy had been thinking of Oliver before when he accidentally hurt Laurel, it’s faded from his mind for now.

Tommy’s right, Oliver doesn’t want to give them his real name yet. But he’s lost for words. He’s never had to consider making up another name before; it wasn’t important. All he’s had to worry about in the last few months was creating the balance in his city, running from the police and hiding from the conservationists.

“What are the humans on the news and the conservationists calling me?” he finally asks.

Laurel pipes up, and in an instant it’s like Oliver’s sudden attack never happened. “Well, everybody in Starling is basically calling you the Starling City Vigilante, or the Hood. Down on paper, you are…” Laurel glances down at the paperwork. “You’re down as the Hood.” She raises her head. “Is that what you want to be called?”

Oliver is about to agree, because he doesn’t have any other ideas, but then Tommy throws his arms in the air, butting in. “Dude, no, that’s lame,” Tommy protests. The human male hums, looking around Oliver’s den searchingly for a minute, seemingly deep in thought before his eyes land on the racks of Oliver’s arrows, with their green fletching. “How about the Green Arrow?”

“No, that’s too long,” Felicity shakes her head. “Cut the ‘green’ part. The Arrow. Much better than the Hood and not too much of a mouthful.” She turns to Oliver. “What do you think?” 

“The Arrow.” Oliver rolls it around in his mouth. It’s not bad. It’s short, and does the job, and it’s actually quite fitting. He shrugs, with a small smile. “Well, I was partial to Green Arrow but… Alright.”

“The Arrow it is,” Felicity nods happily. She sticks her hand out, beaming. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Arrow.”

Oliver stares at confusion, looking between Felicity’s hand and her eyes, not understanding what she wants him to do.

Laurel takes pity on him, rolling her eyes. “You shake it.”

“Oh.” Oliver takes her hand with his own before pausing. “Why?”

“It’s a human greeting,” Tommy explains. “You do it when you meet somebody new, or when you’re making an agreement on something.”

“But I’m not meeting somebody new, it’s _Felicity_ ,” Oliver replies, looking baffled.

Felicity straight out laughs with a massive smile on her face, flicking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, shaking her head in amusement. “You know what, never mind. I have a feeling that we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other in the next few months.” She shows Oliver how to shake somebody’s hand with a splitting grin.

“Starting with you giving me some advice on how to improve my tech set-up?” Oliver quirks an eyebrow, repeating what Felicity had said earlier, and liking the way the blonde simply beams back at him.

“Amongst other things,” Felicity replies. “But before we begin on that, I have a few questions; the most important of them all: have you ever tried ice cream?”

“What’s ice cream?” Oliver questions.

Felicity looks like she’s been stabbed through the heart, her hand coming up to cover her chest in mock offence and when she speaks, it’s as if the world has ended for her. “Oh my god. Okay, we need to fix this; we’re coming by tomorrow with ice cream and you are trying it.” She says it all confidently, crossing her arms across her chest. She frowns, narrowing her eyes. “Have you tried pizza?”

Oliver’s about to reply, but then Tommy interrupts with, “Let me guess. ‘What’s pizza?’.” His face is entirely serious when he continues, “This is a grave injustice that must be rectified. Felicity, you bring the ice cream and Laurel and I will bring the pizza. I’ll bring chocolate and curly fries too.”

“Tommy, if we’re introducing the Arrow to curly fries, we’ve got to at least introduce him to Big Belly Burger as well,” Laurel smacks him in the chest. But then she freezes and turns back to Oliver sheepishly, asking in a quiet and nervous voice, “Wait, you’re not a vegetarian, right? What do you usually eat?”

“Yeah, what’s your favourite food?” Felicity questions curiously.

“Deer,” he answers back.

Felicity, Laurel and Tommy look stunned for a moment before they start laughing.

It only takes a minute before Oliver is laughing too.

For the first time since he’s made Starling City his home, he doesn’t feel like he has to be afraid of humans.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Please leave kudos or comment, if you have any questions, comment as well!
> 
> Contact me at twitter, @lexiblackbriar if you want to ask any questions at all, I sometimes post writing updates there.


	4. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver bonds with his new human friends.
> 
> Then Laurel arrives with new information, and everything takes a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Want to continue to thank everybody for their wonderful support and comments, really appreciate them!  
> This is where the story starts to hot up.
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of beginning a regular updating schedule. Where I live, it's the UK and it's Saturday evening right now. Not exactly very sure about other time zones, if you live in USA or any other country could you tell me general time of day you're getting this update right now? Thinking Saturdays generally.
> 
> Also, who is watching Season 4 currently? Olicity is bae and I am sinceriously loving all the Lance/Oliver and OTA scenes we're getting. I'm kind of in love with how the writers are dragging in the fandom terms, like Ep 3 when Felicity continued to reference them as Original Team Arrow. Awesome, I'm telling ya. I'm actually quite enjoying this season. What are your opinions? WHO DO YOU THINK IS IN THE GRAVE?
> 
> Once again, thanks for support. Beta is ironyruinedmylife, thank you bae as always  
> My twitter account is @lexiblackbriar and I am beginning to set up a way of posting updates on my writing schedule. THANK YOU!
> 
> **PRE-CHAPTER WARNINGS: References of self-impregnation and male-pregnancy will begin to start in this chapter. Due to Oliver's new species because of genetic experimentation, he has been 'modified' to make him the most efficient soldier/warrior/survivor, and since he is part of an endangered and rare species, asexual reproduction, possible by both females and males of the species, increases the chances of the population of the species increasing. In this fanfic, it is a completely natural homo bellator custos process. And I have warned you here and in tags, so please don't get mad.**

Laurel, Tommy and Felicity start visiting him almost daily. Often he finds them waiting in his den for him patiently when he returns back in the early morning from a hard night’s work hunting down bad humans, or they arrive in the late afternoon and stay until Oliver has to leave to perform his duties.

The three humans might have opinions on Oliver’s duties, on his killing of the bad humans, but they never bring it up. They never outright help him with his duties either, which Oliver is grateful for, because he’d rather do it alone, and also because he thinks maybe they don’t want to be accessories to harming others of their kind. Which Oliver completely understands.

Apart from that, they all seem to have adopted different jobs.

Felicity’s job is to help him improve his computer set-up; she does this by showing Oliver several new programs she wants him to install and suggesting accessories, like a quad-core processor, and hard-drive encryption; however, Oliver doesn’t just let her do all the labour - he asks her to show him how to work them, how to install and remove them. When Felicity asks why, he quietly replies that it’s so that if his den is discovered, he will be able to take apart this set-up and put together a new one in a new den. She nods and teaches him everything she possibly can, with remarkable patience.

(Felicity is also in charge of ice cream.)

(Oliver adores ice cream.)

Tommy’s job is introducing him to new foods. Oliver had at first protested at this, but then Tommy made him try chocolate, and red vines, and pizza; now, whenever Tommy brings new food over, Oliver gets excited. There are a few mistakes (Oliver can’t stand broccoli and hates liquorice with a vengeance) but Tommy’s knowledge with food results in him bringing over food for him that Oliver generally likes. There was one time ( _never again_ , Laurel had said) where the trio of humans were interested in Oliver’s style of cuisine, so Oliver went hunting, snagged a few rabbits, a chipmunk and a wood pigeon, cooked them over an open fire, and allowed them to try. Needless to say, the three decided never to let Oliver deal with cooking meals ever again. Oliver is okay with that.

Laurel’s job is keeping him up to date with the information the police and conservationists have on him. The brunette eventually had to give back her father (the detective, Oliver never would have believed it) but Felicity managed to get all of the papers in the file photocopied for them before that, so they still have the information. Laurel listens in on her father’s phone conversations in order to try and work out what the conservationists are planning to do next; this saves Oliver’s hide three times, because Laurel overhears that the police are under orders to tranquillise Oliver on sight if he hangs about after he fulfils his duties to create the balance in his city.

Everything is seemingly perfect.

Oliver has three human allies, or he’ll even go as far to say, _friends_.

They help him, and talk to him, and joke with him. They make him smile and they make him laugh, and they save him a couple of times as well, because often Oliver will sink down into what Felicity calls ‘the bottomless pit of man-pain brooding’ and they provide the kindness and support he needs to escape the darkness. Felicity, especially, is a light in that blackness, and he finds that whenever she’s present in the room, he naturally gravitates towards her now.

It’s like nothing could ever possibly dim the light Laurel, Tommy and Felicity spark inside of him.

As soon as that thought emerges in Oliver’s head, it’s inevitable that something, whether it is big, or small, is going to eventually break. It’s inevitable that the break, will cause everything around him to crash and burn. Sunlight doesn’t last forever. Eventually storms will roll in and clouds will cover the sun, until the storm breaks and the sun returns to shine again. In his case though, the storm doesn’t break.

No. The storm only gets _worse_.

* * *

Laurel arrives late due to having to go to a work meeting, but when she arrives, she arrives in style. Tommy and Felicity are trying (and failing) to teach Oliver the rules of baseball because Tommy’s obsessed with the Starling Rockets team, out at the front of the factory when Laurel’s car hurtles towards them up through the gravel entrance gate and screeches to a halt a few metres shy of her usual parking space.

“We have a serious problem,” is all Laurel says before she storms inside the factory into Oliver’s den.

Tommy, Laurel and Oliver all exchange equally baffled looks before following her inside. By the time they get down the stairs to the basement, Laurel is already seated in a chair in front of the countertop where she and Oliver often work, spreading out the paper profiles of the other _homo bellator custos_.

Oliver hesitantly reaches forwards and places one hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “Laurel, what’s going on?” he asks nervously.

She inhales deeply, setting her hands down. “You might want to sit down. This will probably take a while to explain.”

Tommy draws up chairs and they all end up sitting in a circle around the table, looking in at the contents. Oliver is much more cautious, only sitting down after Felicity gives him a reassuring grin. As soon as they’re all seated, Laurel makes a start, taking out a notebook and flipping through it, where she has appeared to take notes.

“So last night, I was having dinner with my dad and he got a phone call from Pamela Price, the head conservationist here in Starling. Obviously I could only hear one side of the conversation, but they talked for a long time, so I made notes on what I could.” When Laurel looks up at the three of them, something unreadable is shining in her eyes. “Okay, so what I have to start with is… it turns out that _homo bellator custos_ can self-impregnate.”

A beat of stunned silence. “... _What?_ ” Felicity gapes.

“I know,” Laurel nods. “And not just females. Males can do it too.” She picks up two profiles, of a young female and an older male _homo bellator custos_. “These two got pregnant via asexual reproduction, and Arrow’s species has a six month pregnancy.”

Tommy pulls the profiles over to look at them himself. “But that’s a good thing, right? That means more _homo bellator custos_ , so they’re not as rare.”

“Well, it would have been a good thing,” Laurel agrees, but her expression turns grim. “If these two survived the pregnancy.”

“They’re both dead?” Felicity repeats sadly. “And the babies?”

“Dead too,” Laurel lowers her eyes. “I tried to get an understanding why they died when listening to my dad.” She flicks through her notes. “The female was the first to get pregnant. They didn’t realise she was pregnant until they tranquillised her and brought her to their research station to give her a full medical check-up because apparently she had been acting strangely.”

Tommy tilts his head, interested. “Acting strangely how?”

“Uh…” Laurel glances over her notes. “‘Killings dropping down to pretty much zero, coming out more often during the day, hanging around in highly populated areas, perching in highly visible visible locations at much lower than average heights’.”

“Are you sure she was pregnant?” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up. “It sounds more like she had a death wish.”

“Yeah, that’s what the conservationists and police in her city were worried about. So they brought her in, and they found out she was pregnant; they got a whole load of figures, like hormone levels, that they associated with pregnancy.” A look of sorrow crosses over her face. “They decided that her city was too dangerous for her to raise a baby in so they tried to move her by plane to a specially built sanctuary in Scotland.” Laurel swallows, squeezing her hands together. “Her heart gave out from the stress halfway across the Atlantic. The baby was too underdeveloped for them to do a C-section. It died without a mother to sustain it.”

“Oh man,” Tommy mutters, closing his eyes in dismay.

Oliver shakes his head despairingly, his heart sinking in his chest. Despite the fact he can’t remember very much about _that place_ , or the other _homo bellator custos_ , he can remember that they were his _friends_. His memories are still fuzzy, but he can remember that particular female being kind; in the brief time they were all being held together in the same cell, she had shared the only water and food she got with the rest of the captured subjects and she had talked to him at night when he was lonely.

“I’m so sorry,” Felicity murmurs, taking hold of Oliver’s hand and rubbing her thumb over his palm soothingly. She turns back to Laurel; “You said there was a pregnant male as well, what happened to him?”

Laurel’s face falls.

“We already know that he’s dead too. You might as well tell us how it happened,” Oliver says quietly.

Laurel won’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. He started doing the same strange behaviour as the female. They discovered he was pregnant during one of his monthly medical check-ups, monitored his symptoms and then two weeks before his due date, the conservation tried to herd him into an enclosed area of the city for his own safety, except he realised what they were doing and attacked them. They managed to trap him inside and then when he went into labour, the conservationists attempted to assist with the birth, but their plan went horrifically wrong. He gave birth fine, but he got really territorial and protective of his baby after. When the conservationists tried to weigh the baby, he went feral and nearly killed them all, so they were forced to put him down.”

“The baby survived though,” Felicity brightens up slightly. “That’s good.” Then she frowns. “But wait, you said before neither baby survived so…”

“The baby wouldn’t have survived,” Oliver jumps in, before Laurel can respond. The three humans turn to gaze at him questioningly. He shifts uncomfortably, frowning. “When the baby is born, the parent _bonds_ with it in a way that humans can’t bond with their young. I can’t really explain it but - the parent knows exactly what the baby wants, when they want it, why they want it. The child needs the parent’s nourishment and support and the parent acts as the child’s teacher. If the parent was killed when the baby was born…” His shoulders slump in a shrug. “The baby would have died soon after.”

Laurel watches him carefully, looking fascinated by what he’s just said, or more likely, fascinated that he even knows this information. Oliver doesn’t know how exactly he knows it; it’s in his head, just like the knowledge of how to hunt, and how to parkour around the city. And the knowledge in his head has served him well so far, he’s not going to start questioning his sources now.

“You’re right,” Laurel finally says. “The baby died three days after birth. The conservation was devastated.”

“Wait,” Felicity butts it, holding her hand up and gazing down at all the papers on the counter top, using her other hand to straighten them out. “If the pregnant male died, and the pregnant female died, and their offspring didn’t survive then that means that there are only -” She pales. “There are only three _homo bellator custos_ left. And that’s including the Arrow.”

“Exactly.” Laurel’s morose expression fades and is replaced by a much more sombre and humourless one. “The conservation is getting desperate. They’re merging with the police-led Hood investigation task force and issuing orders to tranquillise the Arrow on sight. Their main concern now is making sure that the Arrow’s healthy, fit and is tagged with a satellite tracker. They don’t want to lose any more of this endangered species.” She flashes Oliver a slightly sympathetic look. “Which is going to be difficult for you; I heard my father mention posting around-the-clock sentries at all your hunting grounds, and the police are going to have patrols monitoring all the trails you use most often to get about the city.” She rubs her temples in frustration. “They’re also having a press conference tonight to tell everybody in Starling to call in any sightings of you to the police or the conservation.”

Tommy translates it into much simpler words for him, clearly stating: “Basically, you take a step out into the city, and they’ll take you in.”

Oliver thinks. He turns away, bows his head, runs a hand through the fur-like hair on his head and thinks hard. He can deal with this. He’s had backup plans stored up since the conservationists arrived in his city, and one of them has got to provide an answer for him. Laurel, Tommy and Felicity, bless their souls, just wait for him to react and respond, the glints in their eyes telling Oliver that all three of them feel helpless and useless in this sort of situation, which to be honest, they sort of are. They can’t fix this any more than he can.

“Okay,” Oliver nods, finally speaking and slowly standing at the same time. “This is fine. We can run with this. I have secret trails that I can use to get around the city, and there are backup hunting grounds the other side of the Glades. I’m stealthy, I’ll be able to stay out of sight reasonably easily. The most important thing here to do, is not panic.”

“I completely agree,” Laurel says. “But there’s another part to all of this that I haven’t mentioned yet.”

“What?” Oliver prompts, looking down at her warily.

“There’s another reason they’re so eager to catch you and get you into a medical check-up,” Laurel says. “And you’re _not_ going to like it.”

“Laurel,” Oliver bites off a growl. “ _What?_ ”

“They want to assess your fertility.”

Tommy makes a horrified noise and Felicity claps her hand to her mouth, but Oliver doesn’t completely understand, so his head whips between the three humans and a low snarl escapes his throat, demanding them to explain. He doesn’t like not knowing what they’re talking about, especially when it’s something so obviously bad.

Laurel seems to take pity, because she slowly explains, recoiling back as if she’s expecting him to react badly to this news. “They want to determine whether or not you’re going to be able to have a baby.”

Everything whites out in Oliver’s head and everything seems distant for a second. A baby. The conservationists want to know if he’s capable of carrying, and giving birth, to an actual baby. To a baby _homo bellator custos_. Suddenly, his surroundings seem very much clearer, and his three human friends are gazing at him concernedly, waiting for a nuclear fall-out. Except Oliver just blows air out through his nose, closes his eyes and clenches his fists for a second, before calming.

“If I am able to have a baby,” he says slowly. “And I do have one, they won’t be getting anywhere near it. They killed those other two members of my species, and their young, for being intrusive, dumb and forceful. If I have a baby, I will give my life before I let those humans lay a hand on it.” He flexes the muscles in his hands, slowly uncurling his fists and breathing out heavily. “But right now, this isn’t the priority. In order for the conservationists to, as you say, ‘assess my fertility’, they need to catch me first.”

“So we don’t let them catch you and it isn’t a problem,” Felicity completes as if she’s read his mind, nodding. “Right. Gotcha.”

Felicity says this as if it’s going to be easy, avoiding capture. As if she has complete faith that he’ll be able to evade and survive, as if she thinks that this will be no problem whatsoever for him.

By the way Tommy and Laurel nod in agreement, changing the subject to their chosen meal to introduce Oliver to tonight, which just so happens to be Chinese food, Oliver thinks that they think this will be no problem whatsoever for him as well.

Oliver isn’t so sure.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and feel free to comment or ask any questions at all! I will be delighted to get feedback and answer any!
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: AlexiaBlackbriar13


	5. The Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time! Happy Halloween everybody! Thank you very much for all the appreciation and support! Since I have joined Tumblr (AKA The Dark Side) my support has rocketed and it's absolutely amazing for a writer. Really want to thank thatmasquedgirl and geniewithwifi for their support and friendship, both of them gave me a massive welcome to Tumblr and know guys that I really appreciated it.
> 
> Answering some questions from the comments:  
> 1: At this point, at the beginning in this chapter, nobody has seen Oliver's face, or knows his identity. Nobody knows his name.  
> 2: Oliver is both capable of sexual and asexual reproduction. If he has sex with a female, he can impregnate a female. The fact that he can self-impregnate was a result of the genetic modification, in order to ensure that his species does not die out and so members of the species can produce offspring. Because the species is rare, it is very rare for two members to actually meet, even less likely for a male and female to meet. So self-impregnation is a way of ensuring the population increases.  
> 3: Oliver's species is called 'homo bellator custos'. The 'homo' part comes from 'homo sapiens' because he was originally human before he was genetically modified. Parts of his DNA do still contain human genes. Apart from that, he's a mis-match of different animals' genes. I did a genetic diagram and I can tell you that he's got some wolf and panther in him as well as many other animals.
> 
> And about the leaked episode: I'm not watching it. I don't know about you guys, but I feel really bad thinking about watching it. It takes weeks for episodes to be prepped for, shot, edited together and pushed to the CW. I personally feel uncomfortable watching a leaked episode when I know that the people who have been working on it, put effort into it. It's sort of undermining their jobs, because they work on those episodes for a living. So I'm not watching it.
> 
> Please remember to leave comments and kudos! I write for fun, I do it for entertainment and to entertain others, and comments and kudos lets me know that all my work has not been in vain.

Oliver is performing his usual evening rounds, patrolling the docks down in the Glades, when he hears a terrified scream. He freezes on his building top, switching his bow from him non-dominant hand into his dominant one and immediately increasing his strength by ten-fold by doing so.

He jumps across to the next building, following the echo of the scream, and clambers easily down the fire exit until he’s halfway down and in a position where he can easily see the scene below.

A policeman has a young female slammed up front first against the brick wall of the alleyway, her arm pinned behind her in a way that is clearly painful; her face in contorted in a way that shows she’s in agony, with tears running down her face in a waterfall, making her mascara run so much she looks like a panda, and she’s sobbing and begging him to let her go. The policeman is pressing up against her and spitting in her face, threatening to kill her if she tells anybody, threatening to get her arrested if she reports him to the police, because he’s a cop, and he can ruin her life if he feels like it.

Oliver feels rage boil in his blood and is about to intercede, because nothing makes him more furious than a human with power extorting that in such a way, but he’s beaten to it.

A young male human in a red hoodie appears in the entrance to the alleyway, drawn to the screaming just like he was. Hoodie kid storms into the alley, fists clenches and chest buffed out to make himself look bigger.

“Hey!” Hoodie kid yells. “Pick on somebody your own size, creep!”

The police man chuckles darkly, one hand keeping the young sobbing female held to the wall by her neck, while the other hand reaches down for his gun in his holster. He waves it in the air threatening. “Beat it, kid, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

Hoodie kid doesn’t move, but instead looks even more determined. “You wouldn’t regret anything, you’re a sick creepy pedo with no morals and no sense of justice, that just happens to be a cop. Now let her go, right now.”

The policeman grows angry. He throws the young female at Hoodie kid and the male catches her, instantly comforting her by cradling her in his arms. But Hoodie kid is now so focused on the girl that he’s not paying attention to the policeman, who decks him. The kid falls to the ground with the girl in his arms, his face swelling due to the force of the hit. The policeman lifts his gun up and points it straight at the kid’s head and begins to squeeze the trigger.

Oliver reacts.

He’s not going to let these two humans die.

He draws his bow and fires at arrow at the policeman within half a second, shooting the gun right out of his hand so it clatters to the alleyway floor. Leaping off of the fire escape like an avenging angel, he ducks into a parkour roll and slams his fist into the police man’s face, sending him sprawling.

The young female screams again, but this time in shock, not in pain. She scrambles at Hoodie kid’s chest, while Hoodie kid just wraps her up in his arms and hugs her tightly, telling her she’s fine, she’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.

Oliver turns to the pair of young humans sitting on the ground and kneels, asking softly in a garbled and low voice, “Are either of you hurt badly?”

“No,” Hoodie kid replies, sounding reasonably unafraid and confident. “We’re okay.”

“Good,” Oliver nods. “Do you have a cell phone?” The female nods, half hiding her face in Hoodie kid’s red hoodie. “Alright. The police are probably already on their way here; somebody would have heard your screaming and called it in. But you should probably call it in yourselves. Ask for Detective Lance, he’ll -”

There’s an outraged shout from behind him and Oliver whips around, bow drawn and ready to fire, but his reaction time is, for the first time in forever, too slow. The policeman has managed to crawl to his fallen weapon and fires the gun three times.

The shots hit Oliver and he’s jerked to the ground, three tiny fires flaring to life in his right shoulder, his left hip and right thigh. Agony ripples through his nerves and any miniscule movement, even the slightest twitch causes torture to explode in his limbs. Everything fades from his vision for a moment, and all he can see is red, before his eyes focus again on the blood blossoming from the three wounds, with the bullets buried in his flesh.

“Bloody vigilante,” the police man growls, heaving himself to his feet and waving his gun about again, turning on Hoodie kid and the young female, who haven’t yet moved from where they had fallen to the ground. “Bloody stupid kids.”

The man levels the gun at the two young humans, threatening to kill them both. Oliver’s instinct to protect flares to life and, ignoring the pain shooting through him and the blood pooling beneath him, Oliver lances sideways to grab his dropped bow. It takes a tremendous effort, but he fishes an arrow out of his quiver. Taking heaving, gasping breaths, he draws the arrow to his bow shakily, and fires it, directly into the police man’s back, directly into his heart.

The police man falls, dead, to the ground, right in front of Hoodie kid and the young female. The female cries out in horror, her eyes wide, looking like she's about to be sick and the young male drags her to her feet, backing them up against the alleyway wall.

“You killed him,” she whispers in terror. “Oh my god. You _killed_ him.”

“It was either you or him,” Oliver grunts.

The female’s eyes dart from the dead body to him, and Oliver flinches under her gaze, but the movement causes pain to erupt in his shoulder and hip, and a long, low groan escapes his mouth involuntarily. Hoodie kid rushes over to him, the female following. While Oliver hates the idea of being so close to humans he doesn’t know and doesn’t trust, he’s somewhat relieved he’s not alone while bleeding out.

“You’ve been shot,” the kid says, panicking.

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed,” Oliver grits out through the pain.

Sirens wail in the distance. Hoodie kid glances back, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of any arriving emergency vehicles. Oliver doesn’t really take notice of the sirens because of the horrendous agony he’s experiencing, but the two young humans do, as they try and reassure him that help is coming, and they’ll take him to the hospital. 

But Oliver knows better. The police won’t take him to any sort of hospital. They’ll call the conservationists, and then he’ll never know freedom ever again.

“What’s your name, kid?” he questions, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. Hoodie kid’s attention snaps back to him in confusion. “Hey! What’s your name?”

“Roy,” the young male human replies. “Harper. Roy Harper.”

“And you?” he raises his eyebrows at the female.

“Thea,” the girl sobs, pale and shaking.

“Roy, Thea. Head out onto the main street,” he orders weakly. “The police’ll meet you there. Tell them the body’s back here.”

“What about you?” Thea gets out between her sobs.

“I’ll be fine,” Oliver tells her. But he won’t be. He knows he won’t be. The bullets are buried deep, he’s losing too much blood, he’s pretty sure he’s internally bleeding and he’s slowly losing the fight with consciousness.

Once the two humans have left, albeit begrudgingly, Oliver begins to move. He drags himself to a locked service door, leaving a trail of thick blood behind him. He manages, somehow, miraculously, to force the door. He falls inside and slams it shut behind him, gasping, taking shuddering breaths as he struggles for oxygen. The shot in his shoulder must have nicked his lung, because he can’t breathe easily.

Shaking, he crawls, agony wracking his form, into the corner of the room. It’s a maintenance room of some kind, with the blinking blue and red lights of wires. He curls up, scrunching his eyes closed and he can’t help it; he starts crying silently from the copious amounts of pain his body is in. He can’t call for help, he can’t do anything for himself.

He’s dying from three bullet wounds, and he’s utterly and totally _alone_.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there, folded up in the foetal position, crying softly in agony, shaking and trembling, slowly bleeding to death, but he’s willing to bet that it’s been a while. He wishes somebody would just appear and release him from his pain. He wouldn’t go so far as to beg for death, but death would be better than this. 

He hears the door that he had forced be once again forced open. Flash light beams dance around the room, and he can hear dogs barking in the background, as well as irritating radio chatter that Oliver’s come to associate with police radios. A powerful beam of light lands on his broken, battered form and he whines lowly and deeply, shrinking backwards into himself and away from the humans.

“Oh no,” he hears a familiar voice whisper. Lance swears several times, violently and shakily as the police man hurries to fall to his knees in front of Oliver, his hands instantly trying to put pressure on the wounds, pulling a groan from the archer’s lips. “No, no, no, no… you can’t die, you’re not allowed to die. Stay with me. Come on, come on.” He yells back at the other humans crowding the room; “Somebody call Pamela Price, and get a medical team down here!”

Lance shifts his position so he’s mostly leaning on the wall beside him, keeping steady pressure on the gun shot wounds, but in doing so he jostles Oliver, drawing up a small scared noise and pained whimper. The detective swears again, but this time in a much softer voice; he doesn’t sound angry like he did before, and instead he sounds afraid and upset.

A policeman offers from the doorway, “The conservationists are on their way, sir. They’re bringing an emergency response medical team.”

“What’s their ETA?” Lance asks urgently.

“Fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Then call them back and tell them to get here faster!” Lance barks.

“But, sir - even with a police escort -”

“One of the last members of an extremely endangered species is bleeding out from three gunshot wounds,” Lance interrupts with a snarl. “Call them back and tell Pamela Price to get here faster, officer!”

“Yes, sir,” the human quickly obeys.

Oliver coughs. A splatter of red stains his lips and suddenly, he’s hyperventilating. He feels like he can’t breath, like he’s stuck in a vacuum without oxygen and it feels like somebody’s just shoved a sword through his chest. Just twitching his shoulder sends spikes of pain roaring through his nerves, and for one terrifying moment, he doesn’t think he can feel his shot leg.

“Jesus,” Lance says, his voice quivering with something Oliver thinks might be either panic or distress. “Hold on, okay, help’s coming, just hold the hell on.”

Oliver wheezes, choking out, “Can’t breathe… can’t breathe…” with fear and agitation shaking his entire body as he rocks his head back, bumping it against the detective’s leg.

Lance looks stunned for a moment, as if he can’t quite just believe that Oliver’s talked, but then he slides closer, hooking his arms under Oliver’s armpits and slowly heaving him onto his lap so he can much more easily apply pressure to stem the bloodflow.

“It’s - it’s probably the bullet,” Lance tells him, desperately attempting to sound calm and collected, but epically failing. There's also the fact that tears are glistening in his eyes, showing how affected he is by this. “It’s - it might of nicked your lung or something, I don’t know. The medics will be here soon. They’ll - they’ll know what to do, okay?”

Oliver gives a small nod, but even that causes red hot pain to flare and another groan breaks through his gritted teeth. “How’s - how’s the girl? T-Thea? And the hoodie kid? Roy Harper?” he croaks.

“Both shaken but alive, no thanks to you,” Lance informs him. “Damn dirty cop,” the detective hisses under his breath, “Had him under surveillance but he slipped the radar. Careless and irresponsible on our part. Stupid, stupid.” The detective shakes his head. “So, so sorry, kid, this never would have happened if -”

Oliver starts coughing so violently that his whole body shakes, blood spurting from his lips as he shudders, gasping and gagging. He swears he’s never been so afraid of death before in his life. Without even realising it, his hand inches sideways so he’s gripping Lance’s shirt like it’s a lifeline.

Lance’s voice wobbles as he says, “Okay, I’m - I’m gonna pull the hood down so it’s easier for you to breathe, alright?”

Oliver lowers his eyes and squeezes them shut, so he doesn’t have to watch Lance’s face as the detective slowly takes a hold of his green hood and pulls it down so it's bunched up under his neck, slightly pillowing his head. There’s silence, where the only sound is their harsh breathing, officers milling around outside and police dogs yelping and yapping at each other.

When Oliver finally opens his eyes, Lance looks like he’s been hit in the face with a sledgehammer.

“ _Oliver Queen_?” Lance stammers, his eyes wide and round, and his jaw dropping.

“Who’s Oliver Queen?” Oliver responds, a moment later, making sure his confusion is evident.

His name is Oliver, yes, but he doesn’t know anybody called Oliver Queen. Why is Lance calling him that anyway? But the way Lance looks at him makes Oliver squirm because - does the detective recognise him?

“Jesus Christ,” the detective murmurs. “They weren’t kidding when they said you wouldn’t remember your past life.”

As soon as Lance finishes his sentence, humans swarm around them. These must be the conservationists that the police called, with the medical team. Oliver barely has time to register them before they’re pulling him away from Lance, eliciting pained cries from the archer, manipulating his limbs to tug his green hooded jacket off of him, leaving him shivering and bare-chested as they begin to prod and poke at his wounds.

Alarmed and overwhelmed, Oliver fights.

He swings his arm attached to his good shoulder into one of the closer conservationists and slams his knee of his uninjured leg upwards into another human’s chest. His pain is immense and he’s weak, making his movements sluggish, but he refuses to go down without a fight.

“Sedate him!” a human shouts.

“I’m trying!” another human yells back.

A syringe filled with clear liquid appears in Oliver’s vision and he lashes out.

Human hands seek to pin down his arms and legs and this makes him panic even further. He lunges upwards and sideways, a desperate attempt to escape, but he ends up rolling away and slamming into the alleyway wall, crying out. The humans start crowding him again and Oliver makes small, animal-like whimpers of distress, trying to curl up despite the pain and cover his head with his arms.

“Stop! Stop, can’t you see you’re freaking him out?” Lance shouts. “Price, just leave him alone for a minute so he can calm down!”

“He might not have a minute!” one of the nameless conservation humans snaps. “If one of the bullets has nicked one of his arteries, he could bleed out within half an hour or so. We need to get him back to our research facility as quickly as possible so we can begin surgery, and we can’t do that without sedating him.”

Human hands start descending on him again and he bucks against them. “Leave me alone, go away, just _leave me alone_!” he screams, thrashing at them. His mind going completely blank and his vision whiting out, he cries out in a frightened voice, “Felicity! Laurel! Tommy! _Felicity_!”

The nameless human that has now been identified as Pamela Price, whom he remembers is the leader of the conservationists, the head of their operation, mutters in disbelief, “He can talk?”

Oliver’s not usually one for attracting attention, but he can’t help it. He’s surrounded by humans he doesn’t know and he doesn’t trust, so he screams. He writhes and twists and jerks about in pain and in fear, and he’s normally so good at controlling his emotions, but now he can’t get a hold on them, and that scares him even more. There’s shouting and yelling through his haze, all incoherent. He thinks he sees Lance punch one of the conservationists angrily between the stabs of white; after that he thinks he sees other police officers protesting furiously.

Then there’s the flash of light reflecting off of a needle, and there’s prick in his arm. Everything immediately begins fading and falling away.

He goes limp and his hyperventilating evens out as the darkness descends and encases him, cradling him in black.

He thinks, for a brief fleeting moment, he can hear Felicity scream, “ _Oliver!_ ”

The weight pushes him, whispering that he must be out of his mind. Shadows immerse and envelop him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos or comment, feel free to ask questions!
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


	6. The Conservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver wakes up in the conservation facility for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Time for update! *gives a little dance*
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful support! I understand I annoyed some people with the cliffhanger that last chapter, but I'm not going to apologise. I really appreciate all your comments and kudos and please know it really motivates me to write.
> 
> And guess what - I'm doing NaNoWriMo! This is my fanfiction novel for NaNoWriMo! So I'm going to be spewing out chapters!

Faint, regular beeping awakens him, drawing him out of his unconsciousness and causing pounding in his ears. He feels limp, and weakened, as he can barely move. His eyelids flutter open, hesitantly and gradually taking in his surroundings. He’s on the floor in the corner of a pristine white room, that only has a square stainless steel table and two metal chairs in the opposite corner, and a large mirror. The air smells strange. It’s not a medical smell, like he would have expected - it’s fresh, like morning dew and grass, but there’s a distinctive artificial hint to it. 

Oliver swallows and groggily lifts his head. He’s cushioned, and by curling his hands up, he discovers that he’s been placed in a carefully arranged nest of blankets and pillows; they smell like den, and it takes him a few moments due to his disoriented state to realise that these are blankets and pillows from his nest, from his den.

He’s been changed out of his green leather pants and hooded jacket - he’s been dressed in loose-fitting light grey sweatpants and a big grey hoodie. He cautiously touches his hand to where he remembers the bullet wounds to be, and finds that they’ve all been bandaged up, so he can’t really examine what he hopes is neat, efficient stitching underneath. He's attached to several monitors, and has an IV in his arm, so he rips off all the probes and pulls out the needle carefully, relieved when the beeping noise cuts off.

A face appears and swims above him, but he doesn’t panic, because he can faintly make out glasses and blonde hair, and that can only possibly be one human being.

“Felicity,” he croaks.

“Hey, mister,” the blonde replies, with a sad smile and her eyes filled with tears.

Oliver’s heart explodes with emotion; he can’t express how joyful and happy he is to see her. A deep purr erupts from his throat as her hand cascades through his hair. He’s not even mad or scared of the fact that he’s hoodless and exposed in front of her.

He’s just so, so relieved not to be alone.

He grabs Felicity’s hand and tugs her, urging her to join him in his nest, and she settles down beside him, leaning against the wall. She reaches to pull a blanket over him when he shivers.

She runs her hand through his hair and he arches his head up to it, another purr coming from his chest. “How are you feeling?” she asks softly.

“Hmm… sore,” he responds. He feels terrible, but he doesn’t want to tell her that. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Her voice is careful.

“I…” he frowns, concentrating. “I remember being shot and everything up to the conservation humans arriving. Lance found me in a maintenance room after I saved two young humans… Then the leader was there? There was a syringe and…” He decides not to mention that he thought he heard her screaming his name. “Nothing. I blacked out.”

“It was bad, Oliver,” Felicity tells him lowly, looking around the room. “You seized and flatlined twice on the way here.”

“And where is here?”

“A conservation research facility,” Felicity answers. “It’s the most expensive, advanced facility in the United States; Pamela Price pulled out all the stops for you.” When he tries to pull himself up into a sitting position, Felicity shakes her head and pushes him back down. “Don’t get up; you were in surgery for nearly four hours. You need to rest, so you can recover.”

“How long have I been here?” His internal body clock is on the fritz, and it’s disorientating to say the least. He can’t tell what time of day it is, or how much time has passed.

“Only three days. They put you under anaesthesia the day you arrived and after surgery and once that wore off, you slept.”

A sudden thought strikes him, and he questions, only using one word but putting all of his urgency and worries into that word: “Tracker?”

The blonde grimaces. “Put it in the back of your neck as soon as they finished surgery, while you were still out. Their medical team actually managed to fit in a full medical check-up as well, before they were scheduled to move you to here.”

Oliver closes his eyes in dismay and his head drops against her leg, feeling defeated. “So they got everything they wanted,” he says quietly. He snaps to attention, raising his head and glancing about. “Hey, how did you get here?”

“Detective Lance called Laurel to tell her what happened; he said you’d been screaming our names when you had a panic attack,” Felicity replies. “Laurel called me. Lance managed to get Pamela to agree to letting us stay with you while you’re here.”

“Where are Laurel and Tommy?” he asks promptly.

Felicity bites her lip. “Oliver. Um…” She takes a deep breath. “Detective Lance mentioned that you don’t know who Oliver Queen is.”

“Well, he shares my first name,” Oliver responds dryly, running with the sudden change in subject, as he knows Felicity wouldn’t divert without a proper reason. “But no, I don’t. Who is he?”

“Oliver, it’s you.”

His heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You are Oliver Queen.” Felicity doesn’t stop, she just immediately begins explaining; Oliver appreciates this, because it doesn’t give him any time to work himself into a panic. “Your name is Oliver Queen and you’re twenty seven years old. You have a family: a mother, a sister and a step-father. You used to be human.” She swallows. “I know this is insensitive, but I really need to ask - what’s your first memory? I know you have gaps in your memory and you can’t remember much, but anything will be helpful.”

He tucks his head to his chest. While this information she’s providing is overwhelming and shocking to him, he wants to know more, so he figures he’ll have to answer her questions so she can continue. He closes his eyes and concentrates. “My first, I guess you could say real memory, where it’s not hazy and there’s no gaps… is waking up after escaping from, uh, _that place_ … Nothing else before that that doesn’t come back to me in flashes.”

Felicity nods, gazing at the floor, appearing to be in deep thought. “Okay. I can work with that,” he mumbles to herself. She turns her body fully around so she can meet Oliver’s eyes. “You were born May 16th, 1985 to Robert and Moira Queen, here in Starling City. You have a little sister called Thea, she’s seventeen now, nearly eighteen. She's actually the kid you saved from that cop. The Queen family is a rich, elitist family, even today, so even at birth, you were a billionaire; your family owns a Fortune-500 company here in Starling, which I work for in the IT department actually, called Queen Consolidated.

“Tommy and Laurel have been your friends since you were little. You, uh, dated Laurel quite a few years ago but… circumstances split you up. In -” Felicity steadies herself. “In 2007, you and your father went on a business trip to QC’s China subsidiaries. You went on your family’s boat, the ‘Queen’s Gambit’, but the boat was sabotaged. They - nobody knows exactly what happened but - there was storm, a bomb went off and the Gambit sunk. Both you and your father were thought have drowned, along with the rest of the crew.”

Oliver stills and processes.

It takes a while, but he works through the information steadily. He has a name, an identity, a past, a family. But at the same time, he doesn’t. If he’s Oliver Queen, then Oliver Queen is dead. He can’t remember anything of Oliver Queen’s life, and he doubts he could ever be that human.

If Tommy, Laurel and his family are expecting Oliver Queen to come back, then they’re going to be bitterly disappointed.

“If Tommy and Laurel are my friends,” he says quietly, wanting to say ‘Oliver Queen’s friends’, but he’s grown fond of the two humans and he considers them his (Oliver’s, his, the non-human, the _homo bellator custos_ ) friends, “Then why aren’t they here too?”

“Remember I said that you and Laurel, um, dated for a while?” Felicity wrings her hands nervously. “Yeah, er, you kind of cheated on her. A lot. With lots of women. The most outrageous of which was Laurel’s little sister, Sara. Sara went on the Gambit with you those five years ago and - both Laurel and Detective Lance kind of blame you for her death.” By the time Felicity has finished, her voice is withdrawn and wary, as if she’s not sure how Oliver is going to react to this.

The door of the white room opens. Oliver startles and grabs the corner of a blanket, yanking it over himself to hide himself, pressing his head up against the side of Felicity’s thigh. A small, quiet whine escapes his throat as he huddles into the blonde’s side. _Humans = danger._ She just sighs and puts a reassuring hand on his side.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna eat all of this. This could easily feed me for a week,” a gruff voice greets the blonde, harsh and loud footsteps sounding his arrival into the room. The door clicks shut behind him and a chair is drawn up. “Must be hungry, huh.”

“Starving,” Felicity replies. “I haven’t eaten since Pamela forced that god-awful protein bar thing on me for breakfast yesterday.” There’s rustling of a paper bag. “Ah. Big Belly Buster Burger and curly fries. Mister Lance, you are a saint.”

Detective Lance is here.

In the room with him.

Oliver tenses and curls up a little tighter; he’s thankful for the blanket covering him, shielding him from what he suspects would be a piercing gaze of hatred, based on what Felicity just told him. Felicity seems to sense that he’s uneasy, because she rubs her thumb in circles on his blanket-covered side, as if trying to tell him that everything’s safe and okay.

“How’d your conversation with Laurel go, by the way?” Felicity questions.

Lance’s expression darkens. “Yeah, let’s not talk about that.”

“You weren’t too hard on her, were you?” Felicity says nervously. “I mean, you can understand why Laurel, Tommy and I didn’t tell you about Oliver, right?” Her eyes flicker down to him and he manages a small smile up at her. “You were hunting him, you wanted to capture him… we were scared that he’d end up hurt.”

Lance looks into his bag of food, keeping his face carefully blank. “I understand that, yeah. But Laurel’s my daughter and since Sara…” He paused. “Laurel and I agreed not to keep secrets from each other, Ms Smoak. It’s going to take me a while to come to terms she kept something this big from me, despite the fact I know why.” As Lance pulls out his burger and takes a bite into it, he humms in appreciation. “Don’t tell Laurel I’m eating this,” Lance tells the blonde, tearing further into his paper bag and slurping from one of those lidded plastic cups Tommy usually brings soda and milkshakes in. “I’m meant to be eating healthily due to a heart condition.”

“Only if you do the same for me.” The smell of warm ketchup and meat hits the air and Oliver inhales the scent, his stomach rumbling. He hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s famished. “Laurel thinks I have an unhealthy obsession with these burgers.” Felicity tugs at the corner of Oliver’s blanket, uncovering his arm. “Hey, Oliver, you hungry?”

He’s exceedingly cautious as he pokes his head out from under his blanket, making an anxious and apprehensive noise. His eyes dart over to Lance, but the man isn’t looking at him, he’s checking his cell phone and digging into his own burger. He wonders if the detective is ignoring him on purpose, trying to give him the space that Oliver needs in order to feel secure. Felicity waits with tremendous patience, offering him a lidded plastic cup and a pair of energy bars.

He takes the risk.

Sliding more upright so he can rest his shoulder against the wall for support and still keeping his side pressed to Felicity’s for confidence, he takes the offered food and drink. He’s not used to eating in front of somebody he doesn’t know and trust, so he nibbles, taking small bites of the energy bars while glancing around the room, his gaze switching between the door, Felicity and Lance.

He finishes the energy bars, but he’s still hungry.

He casts a pleading look at Felicity, who has only eaten half of her portion of curly fries. She rolls her eyes and hands it over. Licking his lips as the scent of fried, seasoned potatoes wafts into his nose, he digs in with much more gusto than when he was eating the energy bars.

“Should he really be eating them?” Lance speaks up, his tone eliciting disapproval.

Felicity shrugs. “He’s hungry. If Pamela wasn’t happy about him eating curly fries, then she wouldn’t have let you in here with the food. Besides, I don’t think it’s gonna do any harm considering he’s got a vanilla shake to wash it all down.”

_Vanilla shake? Did she say vanilla shake?_

The cup Felicity had given him before was full of water, so at the mention of a vanilla shake, Oliver’s eyes dart upwards to blink at her wide-eyed.

“After you finish the curly fries,” she tells him. Turning to Lance, Felicity informs him in an amused voice, “He loves vanilla shakes.”

“Not as much as I love coffee,” Oliver responds. It’s the first time he’s spoken since Lance arrived, but the police detective doesn’t even blink. It releases his tension slightly, and the archer relaxes.

“Yes, I know you love coffee, but after what happened last time Laurel said you’re not allowed coffee without adult supervision.”

“You’re an adult,” Oliver argues. “Tommy’s an adult.”

“Not according to Laurel, we’re not,” Felicity mutters, taking another bite of her burger.

“What happened last time with coffee?” Lance questions, his eyebrows raised.

“A lot of weird stuff we don’t talk about,” Felicity responds. Oliver taps her on the arm and waves the empty cardboard box the curly fries were in. Felicity rolls her eyes again, this time fondly, and swaps the empty box for the vanilla milkshake. “Laurel’s the only one qualified out of the three of us who counts as an adult in her opinion, so if Oliver can’t have coffee because she’s not around, we usually get him a milkshake or something.”

Lance eyes Oliver warily. “Are you really sure he should be eating and drinking this sort of stuff? Isn’t it unhealthy for him considering his normal diet and stuff?”

“His ‘normal diet’, Mr Lance, is half-cooked rabbit and deer,” Felicity huffs, tearing into a blueberry muffin. “Curly fries and milkshakes are improvements. Like I said before, if the conservationists didn’t want him eating junk food, they wouldn’t have let you in. Anyway, he’s only had an IV to provide glucose and nutrients for the last three days, so the sugar and starch will do him some good.”

The three of them lapse into silence. They finish the food and drinks easily, mostly because Oliver is pretty hungry and steals whatever Lance and Felicity can’t finish off. Oliver doesn’t even realise that the detective is watching him with a slight frown and grimace on his face until he risks flashing a glance towards the human himself, wanting to gauge his expression.

Felicity seems to sense the growing tension in the room, because she immediately tries to rectify it. “So you two know each other,” she tries to start conversation.

“No,” Oliver says, at the same time Lance grunts, “Yeah.”

“When’d you two meet?” Felicity tries again.

“That depends,” Lance grumbles. “Do you mean when did I meet Oliver Queen, or when did I meet the Arrow?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “I met Oliver Queen when he sat with Laurel and calmed her down after she scraped her knee in the park after falling off the monkey bars, when she was six. I met this guy -” he inclines his head at the archer, and Oliver’s lips draw back in a snarl. “- In Adam Hunt’s office when he escaped by jumping out of a window.”

Felicity eyes him carefully with an unreadable expression. Oliver swallows and looks down at his hands and is alarmed to find that they are shaking. In a swift and hurried movement, he drags the blanket over his hands to hide the trembling, but Felicity’s not stupid, and recognises his anxiety. She settles a hand on Oliver’s arm and he tries to stop himself from flinching at the human contact. He knows Felicity won’t hurt him, but he can’t help the response.

“Do you hate me?” he blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Lance blinks at him, as if the question surprises him. He exchanges a look with Felicity, and when Oliver quickly glances at the blonde IT girl, Felicity is shooting the detective a warningful look. It relieves him slightly that Felicity is looking out for him and is prepared to protect him from Lance if need be; not that he’d need protection - he’s pretty sure he could easily take the human down, but he’s not used to human verbal sparring, and it unsettles him.

“I don’t _hate_ you,” Lance finally says, his voice strained. “I can’t hate you for doing something that you can’t remember doing. I hate Oliver Queen for that, but you’re not Oliver Queen.”

Oliver’s briefly shocked, because he never would have expected the detective of all people to understand that while he’s in the body of Oliver Queen, he’s not that person anymore. He suspects that many other humans will think that just because he doesn’t have his memories, he’s still Oliver Queen.

But he’s not. He’s not Oliver Queen.

He may have been once, but he will never be again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar
> 
> Please comment or leave kudos! I would love to hear all your opinions!  
> Come visit me on Tumblr or Twitter if you want, feel free to ask questions!


	7. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Price speak for the first time, and Oliver makes a judgement call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Guess who is going to finally go and see SPECTRE after this? I'm excited, but not as excited as I am to post this chapter. People have been commenting saying they've been waiting to meet Price, and in this chapter, you finally will.
> 
> I thought I'd just leave a small reminder: On my Tumblr page (@alexiablackbriar13) I post chapter previews before Saturday and occasionally Dialogue Teases for upcoming chapters. If anybody of you are interested in that... go check out my page :)
> 
> Thank you once again for all your fantastic support, it's amazing and really motivates me to keep writing. NaNoWriMo is going well, apart from the fact I have now-confirmed bruised ribs and today in hockey I got a bruise the size of a peach on my leg from being whacked pretty hard. But what can I say, I do sport, injuries are a given.
> 
> Side-stories are coming along very nicely. If anybody has any suggestions for side-stories, I will gladly take them.
> 
> Also, need a name for the 'verse. Asked some people in the comments last week, so I need you guys to vote: Guardians 'verse, Protectors 'verse or the Bellator Custos 'verse. Leave your vote in the comments!

Lance is watching him with slightly narrowed eyes, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to speak again, but then the white door opens and humans appear in the doorway. Oliver panics and hides his head under the blankets, but not after he gets a glimpse of the conservationists dressed in white head to toe, with face masks covering their mouths.

As the conservationists enter the room, Lance quickly stands up and blocks their view of Oliver, putting his hands out to try and stop their approach. “He’s stressed out enough as it is,” Lance warns. “You push much more, he’s gonna snap.”

“We know,” a female human says. Oliver recognises the voice as Pamela Price, the woman who had been with the conservationists when he had been picked up by their medical team. “That’s why as soon as we’ve checked his wounds over, we’re going to release him back into the city.”

Oliver pokes his head partially over the blanket, eyeing Price warily. She’s reasonably tall and slim, a little taller than Felicity maybe, and she has short shoulder length dark brown hair that’s neat and groomed; the face mask is covering most of her face. As soon as his eyes appear over the blanket and settle on the female, Price’s piercing grey eyes flit towards him. What scares Oliver the most is that her gaze is dead.

There’s interest, sure, and curiosity, but there is nothing else.

Her eyes are cold and calculating and it makes Oliver shiver and want to hide again.

Felicity asks cautiously, running a hand over Oliver’s side, “Are you going to sedate him, do the check-up while he’s unconscious? Where are you going to release him?”

Price takes the metal chair Lance has just vacated and places it back under the table, motioning for the other conservationists dressed in white to step back, out of the room. Once they have gone, Price tells Felicity and Lance, “If he stays calm, then we won’t sedate him for the check-up, we’ll do it while he’s conscious. The plan is to release him back where he found him, in the alleyway he stopped the attack.”

Oliver blinks and shrinks backwards so he presses his back into Felicity’s side as Price slowly removes her face mask and kneels down in front of them. Oliver suddenly feels like he’s struggling to breath; he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like being around this human. It’s sort of like a negative energy pressing onto him, telling him that she’s dangerous.

Seeming to realise how uneasy and distressed Oliver is by having the female human hover near to him, Lance shifts behind her, his positioning becoming protective as he crosses his arms and casts a worried glance at the archer.

“Hello, Oliver,” Price says to him, her voice friendly and soft, but it still makes Oliver tremble, turning his head into Felicity’s arm. “My name is Pamela Price. I’m the head conservationist of the Starling City operation. Miss Smoak explained to me that you’ve been avoiding us for some time now, but I promise you this, we only want to help.” She shifts closer. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. I’m just going to check that your gunshot wounds are healing, alright? Is is okay if I touch you?”

She reaches out a hand slowly but the moment it gets around a few centimetres away from Oliver’s leg, the archer flinches with a soft growl. Price halts her movement and shoots a look at Felicity, who is looking down at Oliver concernedly.

“How about Miss Smoak takes off the bandages and I just look, so I don’t have to touch you?” Price suggests.

Oliver gives a small nod. Felicity moves instantly, pushing herself up into a crouch and she helps Oliver take off his grey hoodie. He winces and growls as removing the clothes pulls at his stitches, but as the blonde carefully peels off the bandages and gauze covering the stitching, her hands shaking slightly, Oliver goes completely still, his breath stuttering in his throat. Price examines each wound silently for a few minutes each before telling Felicity to recover them with bandages.

“You’re healing at a very fast rate, Oliver,” Price tells him. “Faster than any human would be able to heal. My medical team put dissolvable stitches in so they should dissolve within a week or two, which should be long enough for your wounds to heal.’

Oliver pulls the hoodie back on quickly, anxious to hide what scars litter his body. He doesn’t know how he got most of these scars, and that scares him. Some of them he knows where they came from; nicks and scratches from bullets and knives that have healed, but there are others: massive ropey thick scars that showcase past torture.

“Now usually, we would keep an injured _homo bellator custos_ in the research facility until completely healed, but I can tell that you’re itching to get back out into the city.” Price gives him a cold smile. “We’re prepared to release you early, but that means that in a few days time you will have to take off the bandages by yourself, care for the wounds to make sure you don’t get an infection. Can you do that?”

Oliver gives a small nod, still refusing to meet Price’s eyes.

“I need you to promise me that, Oliver,” Price says. “Because usually, I wouldn’t let this happen. But you’re intelligent, and you act like you know what you’re doing. I can only release you if you promise me that you’ll look after yourself.”

He hates the fact that he has to speak aloud, but he nods and replies quietly, “I promise.”

Price gives him a smile that is all teeth, and Oliver cowers back again.

“Thank you. Now, since you’re a sentient, rational being, I think it would be prudent to tell you that during the time you were unconscious after surgery to remove the bullets, I had the conservation's biologists take a few blood and tissue samples from you, as well as a few x-rays and a full-body MRI. This is only because we don’t have any data of a young male specimen of your species and this is vital research into conserving the homo bellator custos species.”

“Have you analysed any of that stuff yet?” Lance questions.

“Not yet. Despite our resources and our highly-advanced equipment, courtesy of STAR Labs, it’s going to take a few days, maybe a week, to analyse the samples. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to begin our proper research,” Price tells him, keeping her tone professional in manner.

“You took a fertility test,” Felicity interrupts.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t even try to deny it, you assessed whether or not Oliver is fertile enough to have babies in the future because of what happened with those two other members of his species and their offspring.” Felicity glowers at her, daring her to reply.

The female conservationist inclines her head. “I won’t deny it, Miss Smoak. Yes, we did indeed take a fertility test while Oliver was unconscious. We won’t get the data for a few days, however.”

“And what are you planning to do with that data, when you get it?” Lance questions, eyes narrowed.

“Like I said before, we don’t have any data for a young male specimen,” Price responds smoothly. “It’s simply to compare against other specimens. We have data from an older male we would like to compare to.”

“So you’re not going to…” Felicity trails off, her voice suspicious but she’s not able to come up with the right words to finish her sentence.

Price catches on quickly. “If we ever consider whether or not Oliver will be able to self-impregnate, it will all be purely hypothetical. And based on what research we have done, it would be too dangerous to try and artificially trigger self-impregnation.” Oliver notices she doesn’t actually say ‘no’, and there’s probably a good reason for that. She claps her hands and swiftly changes the subject. “I bet you’re dying to get back to patrolling the streets. Let’s sort some things out and then we can process your release from the facility.”

What follows is a massive, complicated blur afterwards. Oliver listens but he knows his mind is somewhere else, but where that is, he doesn’t exactly know.

Price tells him about the satellite tracking program. The tracker they have put into his neck is highly advanced, and shows his location on a 3D map in an app that can be uploaded with the right clearance to any tablet or phone. Felicity, Lance, Laurel and Tommy all have clearance to the app, but so do the conservationists and the police. They can essentially track all of his movements around the city. The tracker also allows them to monitor his heart rate and his nervous system function, so if he gets injured, they will know.

Price informs him that he will get a monthly medical check-up. The other homo bellator custos aren’t even on the same level of intelligence with him, so she tells him that they normally use the tracker to pinpoint their location, tranq them, keep them sedated throughout the whole check-up, then release them after they’re finished. The conservationists are willing to work out a compromise where they contact Felicity, Laurel and Tommy so they can contact Oliver, so he can come in willingly and get checked up while conscious.

Once ‘housekeeping’ as the female calls it, is sorted out and through, Price explains that protocol is to sedate him for the journey back to the place they plan to release him, and since his stress levels are already high enough, they don’t want to risk him freaking out during transit. Oliver hates that. He despises that idea, and he voices his opinion by giving a low growl, but Felicity encourages him to accept this, telling him it’s the best thing for everybody.

Felicity holds his hand and murmurs reassurances as he is injected with the sedative. Lance is gentle and calm as he guides him through lying down and eases him into the blackness with comforting words that soon he’ll be out running the city again.

He’s still absolutely terrified, mostly of Price, but with Felicity and Lance supporting him, telling him this is the right thing to do, he can’t protest or fight back. With Lance and Felicity easing him into the darkness, it’s kind of like falling into a heavy sleep.

It’s a lot more comfortable than the last time he was sedated, anyway.

He begins waking up and coming back into the real world as he is being lowered on a stretcher, wrapped in blankets from his den, onto the ground of the alleyway. Despite the fact he is disorientated and groggy, he can smell his own dried blood from when he was shot here, and it makes his stomach churn. But he can also smell Felicity’s vanilla and lavender perfume, and gun oil from Lance’s gun, and that settles him slightly.

As soon as he moves, twitching his arm and twisting his wrist minutely, the humans crowding around him that were carrying the stretcher back away quickly. He can still sense them nearby, but at least they’re giving him space.

Staggering to his feet, Oliver starts taking in his situation and surroundings.

He’s been redressed into his green hooded jacket and green leather pants. His hood is down, hanging around his neck, and it’s a reassuring weight knowing he can hide his face if he wants to. His bow and quiver are lying on the ground several feet away from him, and he quickly scoops them both up, counting his arrows and checking the drawstring of his bow. The bullet wounds feel achy and sore, and his head is tingling from the after effects of the sedative, but other than that, he feels fine.

He falls against the alleyway wall, still feeling a little dizzy, as he glances around the alley with blurred vision. The conservationists have brought him here in a white van with words he can’t make out on the side, and he can’t make out the humans’ faces, but he’s pretty sure Price and Felicity and Lance are all there, watching him and waiting for him to dart back out into the night.

“Is he okay?” he hears Felicity fret.

“He’s probably just a bit disorientated and fuzzy from the sedative,” an unfamiliar male voice says. “It’ll wear off in a minute, don’t worry. He’ll be back out prowling the streets of Starling and taking down the criminal elite in no time.”

But after five minutes or so, when Oliver hasn’t yet moved from where he’s slumped against the alley wall, breathing heavily, eyes closed as he tries to shake the last effects of the sedative, it’s obvious that the conservationists are getting worried.

“Maybe we hit him with too strong a dose?”

“He’s just re-adjusting, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I’d’ve thought he would’ve run off by now…”

Oliver hears footsteps approach him, and he tenses, prepared to fight, but then vanilla and lavender washes over him and he relaxes, melting into Felicity’s hand on his shoulder as she turns him so his back is against the wall, so he’s propped up and can see her worried face.

“You feeling sick?” she asks, anxious. “Do you want to sit down? We can sit down if you want. Price says the sedative was pretty strong, and it’s probably messing with your equilibrium which is why you’re feeling dizzy - well, I’m presuming you’re feeling dizzy. You might not be feeling dizzy at all, you might feel fine, you might just be taking a rest against this lovely cold brick wall. Are you dizzy, Oliver?”

He can’t help but huff a rough laugh. “Felicity…”

“I’m sorry, I get nervous when I get concerned, and when I get nervous, I tend to ramble,” Felicity babbles. “I think you should sit down. Should we sit down? Yeah, let’s sit down.”

She puts both her hands on his shoulder and pushes him so he slides down the wall, sitting leaning against it as she folds herself into his side next to him, flicking her blonde hair out of her eyes and straightening her glasses.

His head is clearer now than before - the fresh air, with the usual Starling City smells, has knocked aside his dizziness and he’s starting to realise a few things. One of the most evident being that now he has a tracker chip in his neck, he’ll never be alone ever again. There will always be conservationists or police men following him, and that means that they could so easily find his den.

“Felicity?” he asks hesitantly. “Do they - do Price and Detective Lance know where my den is?”

Felicity squeezes his hand, looking apologetic. “Yeah, they know. Detective Lance took Laurel to get your blankets and pillows from your nest and told the conservationists where it is.”

Oliver stares unseeingly at the ground. “They’ve been there…”

“Well, maybe, I don’t know -” Felicity cuts off, narrowing her eyes and shaking his arm slightly, searching his face concernedly. “Hey, you’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

Oliver doesn’t answer. He slowly inches his way up the wall so he is leaning against it, standing, and Felicity jumps up besides him. He squeezes her hands and gives a weak smile, before wheeling around to make his exit.

Leaping up onto the fire escape and swinging himself upwards with one hand, jumping up like a lethal, flexible jungle cat, when Oliver reaches the top of the building, standing on the edge, he can’t help but grin as he notices all the conservationists gaping upwards in awe. Felicity and Lance, however, are simply laughing, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes; both of them are used to his dramatics by now.

Oliver backs up to the other edge of the building before launching into a sprint; as his foot hits the very edge of the building, near its gutter, he springs into the air, clearing the gap between the two buildings easily and ignoring the gasps and shouts below.

He darts off into the night, jumping buildings and navigating the rooftops of his city, but he doesn't head back towards his den in the Glades. He decides in that very moment that he can't return back there; his freedom has been restricted enough with the tracker in his neck - if the conservationists know where his den is, they've most probably, definitely put up cameras and motion sensors and bugging devices around the place. Oliver won't be able to return there now; he wants to go back, if only to collect and move his equipment, but some deeper part of his consciousness is screaming at him that he shouldn't go back there, that that place is compromised.

The Foundry was the one place he felt at home, and now that’s gone. And he’s never going to be alone again.

He sets his jaw as he runs and makes a firm, quick decision in his mind - for as long as he possibly can, he won’t stop moving, won’t stop running - he won’t let the conservationists or police follow him, or take pictures of him. That means he won’t sleep, he won’t hunt, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to survive like that, but he can’t stand the thought of being constantly watched.

He’d much rather suffer without food or sleep and be alone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comment! Feel free to ask any questions! Thank you :)
> 
> Remember to vote for the 'verse name: Guardians, Protectors or Bellator Custos.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar12  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	8. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing one John Diggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writer's - _sorry, geniewithwifi, I mean storyteller's_ \- block so much.
> 
> Thanks for everybody's continued support and appreciation! Please know it is very much appreciated and is very motivational. I'm sure all the wonderful comments I'll receive from this chapter will spur me onwards.
> 
> It's a small and short chapter, unfortunately, as will the next one, but then the one after that is the longest one I've written so far. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, any questions, feel free to ask in the comments. My Tumblr page is open and free and - I'm lonely, okay, come and send me some asks. My inbox is empty. I'm @alexiablackbriar13. Come and visit me. Please.
> 
> Also, quick thing; If anybody here is uncomfortable with MPreg, or has any triggers, please, don't be hesitant to tell me that. I can give you warnings for chapters that will include either of those things so you don't have to read it if it makes you uncomfortable or want to fall back onto old habits.

He’s lost count of how many days he has spent ‘on the run’ from the conservationists and the police. He hasn’t stopped moving around the city since he was released, except for a few moments to check his bullet wounds are healing.

But he’s exhausted, and starving, but he _can’t stop moving_.

The first thing he did when he was released, only a few hours after, was try to dig that damn tracker chip out of his neck. He perched on top of the Merlyn Global building, reckoning there were no CCTV cameras there for the conservationists to spy on him with and, ignoring the pain, he pierced the skin at the back of his neck with an arrow and tried to locate the tracker with bloodied fingertips.

He couldn’t find it.

The conservationists had buried that chip so deeply in his neck, probably near to his spine, that he couldn’t reach deep enough, dig deep enough, to even think about removing it without damaging his nervous system or damaging something equally as important. He wants to contact Felicity, or Laurel or Tommy for help, because maybe they would be able to get it out, but he reckons that if he can’t get it out, _nobody_ can.

So the tracker chip stays in the back of his neck, unable to be removed.

He’s weakening, he knows that. His hands tremble slightly as he runs and he almost slips from the rooftops of buildings several times because his head goes fuzzy and he nearly passes out, but he needs to know that he’s alone, that he’s not being followed.

Continuing to move location, jumping rooftops and crossing the city back and forth, means that the conservationists can’t properly keep a track on him.

But it’s also taking its toll on his body.

He wants to reach out, to Felicity, to Tommy and Laurel, maybe even to Lance, but he can’t stop running, can’t find the time to track them down, despite the fact he desperately wants their support, their help. But stopping, going to them, it would give the conservation time to get back on track with their monitoring of him, and he _can’t_ allow that.

He hasn’t dealt with any bad humans since that day he saved that girl from the bad policeman, and he feels in his bones the corruption spreading throughout the city because he’s letting the bad humans get away with things he usually wouldn’t; they seem to realise his activity has decreased as well, so the bad humans’ activity has, in response, increased, as if they know he’s not going to be able to stop them.

His fatigued, malnourished form is probably the reason that during the third week after his release from the conservationist’s research facility, he doesn’t hear soft approaching footsteps from behind him until the human is close enough to reach out and touch.

He wheels around and aims an arrow at the human’s chest, heart thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings, his breaths raspy and unsteady as he blinks, trying to clear his vision. The human throws up his hands in surrender and backs off.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” Oliver growls, his voice dripping with threat as his grip on his bow tightens.

The human is frozen, but not in fear. Oliver shifts his positioning slightly, trying not stumble over his feet, to get a better look at him, as shadows are falling because of the slowly setting sun, and evenings in Starling can darken quickly.

It's a large man, with dark-skin and dark eyes and bulging muscles; he's clearly marked by war, Oliver notes, because the human is being careful and calculating, assessing the situation and prepared for the confrontation.

The human doesn't reply, simply holding his hands up placatingly, trying to calm him, and instead a radio crackles to life, attached to the human's black jacket.

" _Johnny, your tracker shows you're really close to the Hood. Have you got visual?_ "

"Not now, Lyla," the man responds into the radio quietly, attempting not to startle Oliver.

Oliver, though, is exhausted and tired and he wants to know what's going on, dammit. "Who is that?" he demands desperately, flexing the muscles in his hands around his bow to try and stop them from spasming and shaking. "Who are you? Who are you working with?” When the human just stares at him, not replying, Oliver threatens, managing to keep the tremble out of his voice, “I _will_ shoot you!"

" _Oh my god, Johnny, no, please don't tell me you're facing off against the Hood. I'm getting Price, you need to get out of there -_ "

"It's okay, Lyla," the human, 'Johnny', interrupts, keeping his dark eyes fixed on Oliver cautiously. He probably sees the way Oliver flinches at the mention of Pamela Price, which is why he continues, "No need to get Price. I've got this covered."

" _John -_ "

"Don't send anybody," John follows on, not raising his voice but sounding commanding all the same. "Lyla, you send somebody, he'll freak out and run. Whole point of me being here is to check up on him, and that depends on him not running. Price said he's intelligent; we'll have a talk, then I'll recommend a course of action." His eyes flit over the archer as Oliver hisses angrily. "Look, I've gotta go."

" _Check in immediately after, John. That sure as hell is gonna be an interesting debrief._ "

John pulls off the radio clipped to his jacket and as Oliver shifts nervously, bowstring tightening for a moment, the man slowly places the radio on the ground and crushes it with the heel of his show, making a show of it, before kicking away the tangle of wires and mishaped metal to the side.

Oliver watches him carefully, and when he finally deems the man unthreatening enough, he begins to lower his bow, but he keeps his arrow nocked loosely so he’s prepared to fire at a second’s notice if this doesn’t go his way.

“Oliver Queen, right?” the man questions, keeping his tone light deliberately.

He hesitates. He doesn’t know whether or not he should reply. This human is clearly allied with the conservationists and has been sent to check up on him; he admitted it himself when speaking to that woman, Lyla.

After a moment of scrutinising the man from head to toe, Oliver answered shortly, “Just Oliver.”

The human nods, as if he expected Oliver to say that, and he offers, staying in his tense position a few metres away from the archer, “Name’s John Diggle. I’m ex-Army special forces, took three tours out in Afghanistan, went into private security sector when I got back before being recruited by the GMECC.”

Oliver’s not an idiot, and he knows that the human is telling him a little about his past to try and settle him, make him more comfortable, but for some reason knowing the human is special forces puts the archer even further on the edge. Cautiously, he repeats, “ _GMECC_?”

“Genetically modified endangered creatures conservation,” Diggle informs him.

“I don’t understand why there’s a whole organisation devoted to ‘protecting’ my species,” Oliver spits out, rage throbbing at the back of his mind. “When there’s only six of us in existence, according to your files.”

“Six in existence that we know of,” Diggle corrects. “We’re pretty sure that there’s more of you, at least maybe half a dozen more.”

Oliver tries not to react to that. The human’s words make sense; he can vaguely remember quite a number of cells in _that place_ , more than six at least, so that means there has to be more of his species, hiding out somewhere.

Diggle sets a steady gaze. “We don’t how you were created, Oliver. We know the basics of why, but we have no idea how, with what technology; we’re never going to be able to replicate the process to create your species.”

The archer swallows. “Do - you know which humans made us?”

“No,” Diggle replies softly. “We don’t know. We’re working on finding out; there’s an investigation pending, but as of now, we don’t know.”

Oliver shifts on his feet. Some part of him is telling him to leg it, get moving again, because _humans=danger_ , but the other part of him wants answers, wants to know who this human is and what he’s doing here. “You said to that female that you’re here to check up on me?” he says.

Diggle lifts his head, a smile twitching at his lips. It makes Oliver uncertain and agitated, and he rolls his shoulders, trying to shake his exhaustion off as a small uneasy noise escapes his throat. The human instantly throws up his hands into the air placatingly, lowering his gaze and his posture turning passive.

“Sorry, sorry,” the human apologises. “Should’ve known that would make you edgy. Just amused me that you’re already proving the point I made to Lyla.” A beat of silence, but Oliver switches his bow between his hands, and Diggle continues without asking, “She’s my partner at the GMECC; she’s also my ex-wife.”

Oliver licks his lips. “Ex-wife. That’s like… your past mate?”

Diggle shoots him a weird look. “Yeah, I suppose. But to answer your question, yeah, Price sent me out to make sure you’re not killing yourself. We’ve been getting some strange readings from your tracker for the last few days, like unexplained vital spikes or drops, and your nerve conduction has decreased.” He eyes the archer for a second, before saying, a lot more softly, “Your vigilante activity has dropped to almost zero. Crime rates are up, murder is up… your work saves a lot of people, and the citizens of Starling want to know why you’ve stopped. You also haven’t stopped moving around since they released you, and that makes me suspect you haven’t slept or eaten since then either.”

Oliver doesn’t know what to say. He could lie and turn defensive, or he could tell the truth. In the end, he does neither. “Why does that matter to you?”

Diggle shrugs. “It’s my job for it to matter to me. I’ve been assigned as your…” He frowns. “Well, I guess you could say ‘body-guard’. I’m meant to protect and watch you, which is essentially the job of a - hey, what -”

At the two words, ‘watch you’, something had ignited in Oliver’s mind, making panic arise and his chest tighten. He turns and strides away from the human, trying desperately to keep his heartrate lowered and to take deep breaths, willing away the black spots of exhaustion from his eyesight and taking his leave.

He hopes that the human will take the hint and leave him alone, but obviously Diggle doesn’t, because Oliver can hear footsteps echoing behind him.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Oliver,” Diggle calls. “Not eating, sleeping… not looking after yourself? You’ll collapse and you’ll be vulnerable. You could get attacked on the streets and you won’t be able to defend yourself, because you won’t have any energy or strength.”

Oliver doesn’t stop walking, although he does shoot behind him sarcastically, “What do you suggest?” He’s going to need to thank Tommy again for introducing him to sarcasm. It really is a very powerful weapon.

“I suggest that you stop walking away from me and actually listen to what I’m saying.”

Oliver closes his eyes and huffs a sigh, half of exasperation and half of tiredness. He gives in and turns back around, standing tensed with an arrow nocked on his bow for safety. The human seems to ignore this though, not overly bothered by the threat of being struck by an arrow, and Diggle plows onwards.

“I suggest,” the human starts slowly, “That you let me do my job and help you out. We could arrange an overnight stay at the research facility - in tonight and out tomorrow morning, hardly anything - where you can get an IV and proper food, and if you can’t sleep, a mild sedative or something, and a warm, dry place to rest.”

Oliver barely has to think of an answer before he’s shaking his head violently, lifting his bow slightly in defense. “No. I’m not going back there.” He tries to keep panic from leaking into his voice, but he knows it’s probably a lost cause. “You might as well leave now. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Diggle raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Well, if you’re not going anywhere with me, then I’m going to have to go everywhere with you.”

“Good luck trying,” Oliver says, repeating a line he overheard Laurel once say to Tommy. “It’ll be a wasted effort on your part.”

“You’ve got a tracker chip implanted at the base of your cervical vertebrae,” Diggle tells him, very slowly sounding like he’s becoming more and more annoyed at this situation and Oliver’s lack of cooperation. “I bet you’ve already tried cutting it out, and found you’ll failed; it’s impossible to cut it out without surgery, which you will not be getting. You really think you can go anywhere we can’t find you? The conversation and police know about all your hunting grounds, your routes around the city and where your den is, Oliver.”

“Precisely the reason I haven’t gone back there,” Oliver responds. “I refuse to be followed about constantly and watched for every second of every hour of every day for the rest of my life. I escaped _that place_ to get away from that. I’m not going to let Starling City, my home, turn into my cage.”

Oliver wheels around and surges into a sprint just as Diggle shouts out, “What do you mean, ‘that place’?”

But by the time the last word of a question is voiced aloud, Oliver has already vanished into the shadows of the night, on the move once again as he begins his circuit of the city, his mind too exhausted to even contemplate fulfilling his duty tonight, and his body is straining in effort as he leaps over walls, climbs buildings and clears rooftops.

 _That place_ was his prison, and _those people_ were his jailers. Starling City is the only place Oliver has ever truly connected with as a home. He’s not going to let the conservationists ruin that for him by collaring and walling him within the city.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment and feel free to ask any questions :)
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	9. The Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't go on anymore and he wants Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haii. Happy Saturday! It's 7ish pm here UK time.
> 
> Once again, thank you to everybody who left kudos, commented or has been supporting me throughout this fic, and on Tumblr. I really appreciate it and never have I ever had such a big response to a fic I've written before. Special thanks to @tiredtypingandtea, @geniewithwifi, @melsanfo for their awesome continuing support on Tumblr.
> 
> Shameless self-promotion, if you're enjoying this AU, go and check out my **Olicity AU Series**. It's an ever-growing collection of Olicity supernatural ability/being AU one-shots that help me with my writer's (storyteller's, sorry once again Genie...) block. So far it includes Angel!Oliver, Energy Vampire!Oliver and Actual Vampire!Oliver. I take prompts :)
> 
> As always, any questions/speculations, feel free to rant in the comments. I've had some absolutely fabulous speculations after the last few weeks about certain things, and let's just say I was impressed with a few.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Three days later, his body can't take the abuse any more, and he half collapses in some random alley way in the Glades, black splotches in his vision and his breaths coming in stuttering gasps. His hands scramble against the wall for a hold, but he can't do it anymore, he can't stand, and he slides down the alley way wall with a shuddering groan.

He wants to run, he wants to get moving again, but he physically can't. He's exhausted, and starving, and dehydrated, and he doesn't think he'll be able to walk without passing out.

Remembering vaguely what Diggle had said about watching and guarding him as his job, he waits, shaking, for the human to arrive.

When Diggle does appear, it's with a female human at his side, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and sharp eyes. They both look incredibly sad and Oliver sighs and turns his head away from them, because Diggle had said this would happen, expected it to happen, and Oliver hates that it actually did.

When Diggle kneels down, reaching out to steady Oliver's shoulders, Oliver looks him directly in the eyes and says, "Felicity," because it's the only thing that makes sense in his exhausted, jumbled mind. "Felicity," he repeats, a lot more desperate this time. He needs her. She supports him, she's his light. "Felicity."

"Okay, Oliver," Diggle agrees softly. "We'll call Felicity."

“Felicity Smoak?” the female questions quietly, questioningly from the side. “That’s the girl he’s so enamoured with? The blonde with the glasses that works at Queen Consolidated?”

“That’s the one,” Diggle grunts, getting his shoulder underneath Oliver’s armpit to heave him upwards, unclipping his quiver and placing his bow next to Oliver’s thigh at the same time. He turns back to chuck the female his cell phone. “Call her, would you? Her number’s in contacts.”

Diggle carefully manoeuvres him so he's supported by the wall, but after that he hangs back, watching but not touching or pressing down on him, which Oliver appreciates; there's always constantly faint irritating buzzing at the back of his mind that twinges whenever physical contact is initiated, throwing either threat or target onto the forefront, and right now he can't control that part of him that triggers him to attack or defend.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes closed. “You were right, I should’ve - I should’ve listened to you back then…”

“It’s okay, Oliver,” Diggle’s muffled voice reassures him. “In retrospect, we probably should have asked somebody you already knew and trusted to talk to you, instead of a complete stranger.”

“Hmm…” A whimper escapes his mouth and he hugs himself desperately, feeling so weak, so utterly exhausted. “I want Felicity.”

He cracks his eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of Diggle casting a concerned look back at Lyla, who relays to him quickly, “She’s on her way. Detective Lance is giving her a lift via police car, and he has permission to turn his lights and sirens on.”

“You hear that?” Diggle says, turning back to face the archer. “She’s coming, Oliver. She’ll be here soon.”

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but then suddenly Felicity is swimming in his vision, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands, replacing Diggle’s supportive position and god, he wants to cry in relief.

She’s here. She’s with him. His light prevails.

“Oh god, Oliver,” she says softly, eyes filled with tears. “What have you done to yourself?” She shifts from kneeling so she’s seated beside him, pulling him closer to offer comfort. “I’m here now. I’m here. I’m so sorry I wasn’t before. I’m here.”

Almost immediately, he relaxes, slumping against her and burying his head in her warm jacket, heaving in breaths and inhaling her comforting scent of vanilla and honey and lavender. He simply can’t express how happy he is to know that she’s with him, always supporting him no matter what. She’s the one person, the one human, that hasn’t got any expectations of him, that he thinks might actually understand him.

Except he’s pushed her away. And he doesn’t know whether or not she’ll forgive him for that.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to choke out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wanted to find you but I didn’t know how and I - I’m sorry. I tried to get the tracker out and - I didn’t want those humans - Felicity, I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” she soothes, running a hand through his hair as he half-sobs into her blouse. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He’s content after that moment, after apologising to her, to just lie there against her, his hands gripping her own, and breathe, listening to the humans’ conversation that kicks up.

“He needs an IV,” the unfamiliar woman who arrived with Diggle says in a hushed voice, coming up in front of Felicity and laying a hand on her shoulder. “And a sedative so he can get some proper sleep. I’ll call Price, get her to send a medical team down to -”

“No,” Felicity vehemently replies. “No, you’re not taking him there. Don’t you realise? This stupid conservation stuff, that tracker chip in his neck, being pictured and prodded and poked, and followed, every night and day, that’s the reason he’s doing this. He hates it, he can’t help it; he can’t stand the thought of it and it’s killing him.”

“Lyla, she’s right,” Diggle butts in. “He’s already half dead, taking him back to HQ is just going to make the situation worse. He might actually kill himself next time.”

“There’s no where else we can take him,” Lyla argues.

“Yes, there is,” Felicity says. “We can take him to his den. It’s familiar for him and I know he has medical supplies there.”

“No, no, no, no....” Oliver mumbles into her cardigan. They can’t go back there. The Foundry is compromised, it isn’t safe, he needs to make her understand that, but his brain’s too messed up for him to string proper sentences together. Exhaustion has worn him down and human language is a lot, lot harder now. “Not the den, not… not there.”

“Oliver, why not?” Felicity asks, squeezing his hands, her eyes unbelievably soft and kind. “Why can’t we go back there?”

“Not… not safe,” he gets out. “Bugs… cameras… microphones… they know where it is, know where it…” He trails off when he realises Diggle and Lyla are both staring at him, and he ducks his head into Felicity’s side with an uneasy chitter.

Felicity runs one hand through the archer’s short coarse hair and helplessly says to the other two humans, “We can’t make him go back there if it worries him. He won’t get any proper rest if he’s paranoid about being watched.”

“Where can we take him then?” Lyla questions, looking at all of them in turn before her eyes settle on Oliver last. Oliver flinches at her cold, hard gaze, and the female human swallows.

“My apartment.”

Diggle and Lyla look equally horrified and Diggle quickly snaps, “No, Felicity!”

“Why not?” Felicity argues.

“It’s too dangerous,” Lyla stresses. “Oliver is already, in Price’s words, too emotionally attached to you. Taking him into your home, letting him know where you live, is too much. Price’ll never allow it.”

“Well I don’t see you two offering any other ideas!” Felicity shouts back at them, using what Oliver has dubbed her ‘Loud Voice’. She only uses it when she’s very, very angry, and she has only used it on Oliver once or twice after a few close calls in the field where he’s nearly got shot. “And I’m not going to let you take him to the research facility, so you might as well get that plan out of your heads!”

There is a frigid, tense silence in which the three humans all glare at each other, with intimidating stares, trying to get each other to back down. It makes Oliver nervous, because he’s seen territorial wars before with groups of humans living in the Glades, groups others call ‘gangs’ and those fights were messy and violent. He’ll side with Felicity, every time, but he’s weak and he can barely stand, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to defend her against Lyla and Diggle.

After a moment, Diggle deflates and sighs in defeat. “Lyla, we have to listen to what she’s saying,” he says, with a grumble. “We don’t have any alternatives and Felicity’s given us the best option. It’ll just be for a night, and it’s already been proved that he feels a lot safer around her, so really taking him to her apartment might actually help.”

Lyla looks unhappy, but she huffs in frustration and exasperation, turns and begins walking away. “Fine. I’ll get the van. Prep him for the journey. In tonight’s traffic, it’ll probably take twenty minutes or so to reach Felicity’s apartment complex.”

Diggle and Felicity both wait until Lyla’s turned the corner and is out of hearing range before they both relax. Clearly, they are both used to each other’s presence, that makes Oliver think that they’ve interacted before, probably on a regular basis.“Thank you,” Felicity says gratefully to the other human, gently rubbing Oliver’s shoulder to soothe him. “Really, thank you.”

“I think we both know an IV, food and sleep isn’t going to fix this,” Diggle says grimly, but when he looks down at Oliver, it’s as if his eyes are haunted. Oliver recognises that - he realises within seconds that Diggle has gone through this, this paranoid behaviour and wariness of the outside world, which is how the human can understand and relate. This is why the human is helping him. “Oliver needs to be with somebody he trusts tonight, and I think all of us at the conservation know that the only person he really trusts is you. Your relationship transcends that of your species.”

Felicity clears her thought, clearly embarrassed, “I don’t know about that…”

“Yeah?” Diggle’s lips twitch up into a small smile. “First thing he did when he collapsed in this alley way and we arrived, was ask for you. That speaks a lot, Felicity. And while Price isn’t gonna be happy with this -” He waves his hands between the two of them and Olive grips Felicity’s hand a little tighter. “ - this closeness you two have between you, it’s hard not to recognise the fact that you’ve clearly connected with him on a level nobody else has accomplished.”

“Dig -”

“I’m serious. Price wants to split you two up. She thinks it’s dangerous for him to have such an intense attachment to you. But I know that it’s too late. I mean, look what happened here.” Diggle motions to their surroundings. “She splits you two for barely any time at all and he nearly dies. He needs you and Price needs to accept that.”

Lyla pulls up with the van. Oliver startles out of his almost-catatonic state and makes a scared whimper. Their voices are tinny in his ears, but for a few minutes they argue over whether or not they need to sedate him. Diggle comes out on top, with his point that Oliver has never experienced being transported by vehicle while conscious before, and with his stress levels already so high, adding more stress onto that won’t be good for his health, and his heart might give out before they even reach the main road.

“Don’t leave,” he pleads Felicity weakly when she makes to move from his side, refusing to relase her hand. “Please, Felicity, don’t leave.”

Exchanging a glance with Diggle, she settles back down, pressing into his side. “I’m not going anywhere,” Felicity promises gently. “I’m just going to shift to the side so Lyla can give you a sedative, alright?”

“No…” he moans, turning to muzzle into her cardigan again.

“Shh.” She cups his cheek. “It’s alright, it’s okay. I’m here. It’ll just be a prick, that’s it, and I’ll be here the whole time.”

His breathing hitching in panic as he remembers the last time they sedated him, the sharp hot stab of the needle, he chokes out, “S’gonna hurt…”

“Look at me,” she tells him soothingly, lifting his chin up so he’s gazing directly into her ocean blue eyes, swimming with kindness and slight worry for him. “Look at me, Oliver, it’s going to be fine. Take a deep breath for me -” He inhales and exhales shudderingly. “That’s good. I’m right here. Focus on me and I promise, you’re barely feel it. Focus on me. On me,” she repeats softly, smiling.

Felicity hugs him to her side and runs her hands through his hair as he shakes while Lyla prepares a small syringe for the injection of the sedative. But this time, Oliver is so focused on trying to listen to Felicity’s calming words, telling him where they are going, explaining what is going to happen, that he barely notices the needle slipping into his arm until the warm black fuzziness is sweeping over him.

He grips Felicity’s hand like it’s his anchor to this earth as he slowly slips into unconsciousness, and even then, he doesn’t let go.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please leave kudos and comment, feel free to ask questions :D
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	10. The Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning at Felicity's apartment, and a visit from a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my fellow Arrow fans! Greetings from the UK, where it is horrifically windy. And Merry December. Christmas approaches!
> 
> I'm afraid I have a sad announcement to make.
> 
> This is the last update I'm going to be able to make from now until the New Year. *cringes in preparation for comments* I'm so sorry, but work comes first, and I have mocks to prepare for and a family vacation, so I'm not going to have time to write much more.
> 
> I will update my Tumblr regularly and will be available to message there, however, so feel free to contact me at my @alexiablackbriar13 Tumblr.
> 
> To make up for all that here is an extra long chapter of approx. 4600 words. geniewithwifi nagged me a little to make it longer if I could, so I did. So here. *throws chapter* Merry Christmas!

He jerks awake with a start, his hands immediately fisting in the sheets underneath him. He’s practically drenched in cold sweat, and he’s gasping; he’s awoken from a dream, one he can’t remember, but whatever the dream was about, it must have terrified him.

Shivering, he casts hooded eyes around his surroundings; he’s in a strange den of some kind, supported on a wooden frame that’s covered in blankets and pillows, with the windows covered with fabric pulled across them. There’s an IV in his arm, and he pulls it out carefully, pushing it away and sitting up dazedly.

A second after he gains back his senses, he inhales the comforting scent of Felicity and instantly realises that this must be her den, where she returns to after she leaves his to sleep. He stumbles off the wooden frame, dragging the blankets off as well. He looks down on himself and finds they’ve changed his clothes while he was asleep; he’s wearing loose dark grey sweatpants and is shirtless, and on realising he immediately feels self-conscious due the scars that litter his torso.

The humans have left his green hooded jacket and green pants out, hanging on a chair though, cleaned and ready for him to wear, so he quickly changes back into them. His weapons are nowhere to be seen.

The scent of bacon wafts into the room through the partially open door and he eyes the opening cautiously, not exactly wanting to leave the den because it’s safe and comfortable, but also really, really wanting something to eat. He’s starving. And he knows Felicity is through that door, and he could really use her comfort right now.

After debating for a second, he makes his decision. Felicity is out there. He knows that he belongs at her side, so that’s where he has to go.

He gives in and steps through the door silently, following the smell of cooking food. Upon exiting the den, he’s met with a colourfully-decorated living area, with a table and sofas, a TV and pictures. Lyla is sitting on one of them with her back to him, nursing a cup of fresh coffee; his bow and quiver are resting on the couch next to her, but he knows he won’t be able to try and get them without her noticing. He can hear clattering around the corner, so quietly he moves around the corner.

Diggle is showing Felicity how to perfectly cook bacon and make an omelette. She’s frowning in concentration at his instructions, following them all carefully, as if she’s scared she’ll mess the breakfast up. Knowing what Tommy and Laurel have told him, Oliver won’t be surprised if the omelettes end up as burnt messes.

“So she’s not happy then,” Felicity says, obviously continuing a previous conversation with Diggle. “And I’m supposed to care? Price is never happy with anything. Oliver was hurt, he was half-dead because of her, he had nowhere else to go.”

“I think she’s just not pleased that we brought him to your apartment.”

“That’s because she doesn’t like me,” Felicity argues. “You said it yourself, John, he feels safer when he’s with me, we’ve got some sort of sentimental bond.” She bristles, muttering, “Price is just angry because Oliver attached to me and not to her. Bitch.”

The human seems to ignore that last sentence, although he does shoot her a brief warning look. “She would have preferred it if we brought him to his den,” Diggle replies.

“With all those cameras and bugs around the place? Hell no,” Felicity scoffs. “The conservation might have done all that research, but she’s completely clueless about Oliver and his species.” She cracks an egg angrily on the counter, a bit too hard and it splatters onto the floor. “Oops.” After a second, she shrugs, leaving it. “I mean, haven’t you noticed, she’s been treating him more like an animal than a human?”

“Well, to be fair, he’s not exactly -”

“Not exactly human?” Felcity fumes, turning and pointing her spatula at Diggle like a weapon. “Don’t you _dare_ , Dig. He might not be completely human, but he’s human. He has feelings and emotions and his own opinions, he speaks and thinks just like any normal human would do. He was human before, he’s still human now. Just not entirely.”

“Sure,” Diggle agrees. “But he’s got animal habits too, Felicity, and we can’t ignore the fact that his reactions are more primal in nature than -”

Felicity furiously barks out laughter. “Don’t. Don’t even start. We’ve covered all of this already.”

“Not in depth.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you. I thought you were on my side with this.”

“I am,” he reassures her.

“Doesn’t sound like it. What do you care anyway, you’re only looking after him because you’re being payed to.” Silence falls, and then Felicity sounds horrified at herself as she stutters, “Oh god, John, _I’m sorry_ , I didn’t mean -”

“No, it’s okay,” Diggle replies tightly. “I get what you’re saying. Lyla and I were hired to look after him. We didn’t get to know him before that. You’ve known him for a while, got to know him personally. You know him better than Lyla and I. I shouldn’t judge him when I don’t properly know him.”

“I shouldn’t have said that though,” Felicity apologises. “That was rude and uncalled for, and I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, you’ve already told me you’re not a morning person,” Diggle manages a smile. “We’ll just put it down to crankiness.”

“Still doesn’t excuse me for saying that,” Felicity shook her head. But she smiles to. “Hey, at least it wasn’t an awkward Freudian slip or something. Now that, that would be awkward.”

“Especially considering my ex-wife is next door.”

Oliver thinks he’s heard enough already, so shifting on the balls of his feet, he clears his throat gently. “Felicity,” he calls softly, announcing his presence to the room.

Felicity’s head snaps up and her eyes brighten. She hands the frying pan off to Diggle and darts forwards, but she doesn’t get close, just wipes her hands off with a towel to get rid of the grease. “Oliver! How are you feeling?” She narrows her eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugs, shifting on his feet, admitting, “Long enough.” He rolls his shoulders back, answering her first question, “I feel better, I guess. I’m not tired anymore and I can stand up without falling over, so that’s a good thing.”

“Right,” Felicity nods, still smiling. “You must be hungry. John’s making breakfast -”

“We’re making breakfast,” Diggle interrupted, correcting her with a raised eyebrow as he whisks another two eggs up in a bowl.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “He says ‘we’re’ like I’m actually doing something useful. I burnt the first omelette so I’ve been demoted to bacon flipper now. At least with that, I don’t mind if it’s browned.” She blinks and asks gently, “Do you want to eat?”

Oliver sniffs and a small smile breaks out over his face at the appetising smell of the bacon and omelettes. He’s definitely hungry and he licks his lips. “I’m hungry.”

Felicity nods approvingly. “So that’s a yes. Good, that’s the correct answer. It’s no Big Belly Burger or deer, but it’s food, and it’ll be edible, so you’ll be eating it, mister.” Her smile drops suddenly and he’s left exposed to her serious look. “You’ve been practically killing yourself, Oliver. Lance and I - the conservation told us we weren’t allowed to find you to talk some sense into you, told us you had to figure this out on your own but -” She inhales shakily. “Please, don’t ever do something like that again. Knowing you were suffering and that I couldn’t help - I couldn’t stand it.”

He gives a small nod, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Don’t think this is over,” Felicity warns after a moment. “We’ll be having a lengthy discussion at a later date about looking after yourself properly. But I can tell it wouldn’t be a good idea to push you at the moment, so I’m not going to lord on at you about it, but know that we will talk about it in the future.”

“I know,” he nods. Then as an afterthought, he adds meekly, “I’m sorry.”

“You apologised last night,” she says gently.

He shrugs. “Wanted to again, I guess.”

Felicity smiles and reaches forwards to squeeze his arm for a second, and he preens under the attention. As if she notices his preening, her smile widens and she cups the back of his neck for a moment, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and rubbing her thumn along his spine before pulling away, chuckling as he gives a low whine. She turns back to the bacon to make sure it’s not burning, allowing Oliver to come up beside her to watch her, making sure there is a point of contact between them.

He tilts his head towards Lyla and requests hopefully, “Can I have coffee?”

“Laurel isn’t here, so no,” Felicity replies. “Don’t reply with ‘Diggle and Lyla are here’, it doesn’t count, you’re only allowed coffee when Laurel’s supervising you. We are NOT having a repeat of last time. I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.” She opens her fridge and pulls out a carton of fresh orange juice in one hand and a carton of milk in the other. “You can, however, have juice or milk. Do you want to sit down?”

Diggle and Lyla exchange looks that Oliver can’t identify as he draws a chair out from under Felicity’s table and sits down. Once he is seated, he exhales heavily, relaxing slightly; he hadn’t realised how truly tired he was, and though he feels rested by the long sleep last night, he knows one night’s sleep is not going to fix missing two weeks worth.

Felicity pours him two glasses of drink; one of milk and one of juice. When Oliver shoots her a questioning look, she rubs his shoulder and says, “Orange juice for Vitamin C and milk for calcium. I want both of these glasses to be empty by the time you’ve finished breakfast. You really need the vitamins, especially after what you’ve put yourself through. You’re lucky I’m not forcing you to take supplements.”

He shrugs and takes the glass of milk and takes small sips to soothe his parched throat. Felicity returns to her job of dedicatedly watching the bacon while Diggle serves up three omelettes onto plates. As the archer slowly drains the glass of milk, he’s very much aware that both Lyla and Diggle are watching him, observing his reactions to this new sort of environment, and while he does find it disorientating, scary, maybe a little daunting, he doesn’t pay attention to that when Felicity’s in the room, because all his focus is fixed on her.

“Bacon is ready,” Felicity announces triumphantly. “And I didn’t burn it!”

Diggle laughs. “Good job,” he praises, flipping two slices of bacon onto each plate next to the omelettes, picking up two of them while Felicity picks up the other one. They set the plates down on the table and Lyla stands and stretches from her position on the couch, walking over.

Lyla slips into the seat opposite him and Diggle is about to sit down next to her, and Felicity next to Oliver, when the doorbell rings, followed by pounding knocking. Oliver startles and his hand immediately grabs at his table knife to prepare to use it as a weapon, while Lyla and Diggle pull out their Glocks.

“Hey, ‘Lis,” comes a voice from behind the closed front door as the persistent knocking continues. “You left your tablet charger around Laurel’s yesterday after lunch. Came to drop it off for you.”

Felicity turns to them, wide-eyed and she whispers, “It’s Tommy.”

Oliver perks up. He hasn’t seen his human ally in quite a while. He knows that Tommy used to be Oliver Queen’s best friend, which is why Oliver has always felt connected to him when Tommy has spent time in the Foundry, but he doesn’t actually remember much about their old relationship, and he’d like to start up a new friendship. “Can he come in?” he asks hopefully.

Diggle and Lyla glance at each other again, expressions blank, before Diggle looks at Felicity and says, “It’s your call.”

Felicity motions for the pair of humans to sit down and races towards the front door. She pauses in front of it for a moment, contemplating, calling out, “Is Laurel with you?”

“Nah, she had to go to work early,” Tommy’s voice responds. “Look, do you want this tablet charger or not? I thought your tablet was your ‘baby’ and you would cry if it ever ran out of charge and you didn’t have your charger with you. I could just keep it, you know.”

Felicity finally opens to door and snatches her tablet charger out of Tommy’s hand, clutching it tightly to her chest, mock-glaring at him. “You’re lucky I like you, Merlyn. That threat could have ended our relationship right here and now.”

“I smell bacon,” Tommy says, abruptly changing the subject, trying to push past Felicity into the apartment. Felicity blocks him, and he looks unimpressed. “Did you cook breakfast?”

“Yes, I did, so?” Felicity responds defensively.

“But you never cook breakfast,” Tommy frowns. “I swear the last time you cooked breakfast was when you stayed over at Laurel’s with us because we got really drunk and hungover and you set fire to French toast.” He shoves past her and steps into the apartment without invitation. “I need to actually see this incredible feat of cookery. Maybe take photos for Laurel, you know what she’s like, that whole ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ -” He cuts off, going stock-still and wide-eyed when he spots Oliver awkwardly sitting at Felicity’s kitchen table.

“Hi, Tommy,” Oliver says, to break the silence.

“Er… hi.” He looks reasonably alarmed. “What’s he doing here?” Tommy questions.

Felicity laughs nervously. “Funny story -”

“‘Lis, he’s in your apartment.” His eyes widen and he points at her. “Did he stay here last night?” Catching sight of her sheepish expression, his face tighens. “Oh god…”

“Don’t freak out,” Felicity begs, quickly shutting the door and ducking around in front of him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Digg and Lyla found him practically half-dead last night, he starved and sleep-deprived himself to the point of collapse because he’s really not coping well with the conservation stalking him.”

Tommy just blinks with a blank expression, so Lyla steps forwards to offer her hand. “Hi, I’m Lyla Michaels. You’ve already met John; we both work for the conservation. Oliver’s been assigned to us to watch.”

“Hi,” Tommy greets her stiffly, shaking her hand. “Tommy Merlyn.”

“Yes, I know who you are. Price mentioned both you and Laurel provided her with a lot of good information when questioned.” Lyla gives him a brittle smile.

Tommy strides past her, ignoring her glare, to set another steady glower on Felicity. “You didn’t answer my question. Did he -” He glances towards Oliver warily. “ - stay here last night?”

Felicity cringes and admits, “He stayed here last night because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Tommy’s not even looking at her, he’s gazing over her shoulder at Oliver with piercing eyes that makes Oliver cringe slightly. “His den, the research facility -”

“Would have made him feel even worse,” Felicity interrupts, grabbing Tommy’s arm and yanking his sleeve to direct his attention onto her. “Look, the conservation have put cameras and microphones in his den and Price would have scientists around constantly at the facility. He’s paranoid about being watched all the time.”

“I don’t see why,” Tommy says. “They’re trying to protect him.”

“ _Those people_ at _that place_ always watched us,” Oliver butts in quietly.

The room goes silent. Their breakfast is going cold, but nobody seems to care anymore. Lyla slowly puts down her cup of coffee and Diggle sits up straighter. Tommy, who was defensive and a little confronting at first, seems to deflate at his words, confusion evident in his expression. Felicity strides over and just… bends over him, leaning onto his shoulders while bracing her hands on his chest, resting her chin on the crown of his head, giving him the physical comfort he needs to carry on.

“ _They_ always were there, _they_ always just… watched,” Oliver continues, struggling for words but getting them out somehow, looking down at his lap, keeping his form tensed and still. “Whether we were in our cells or… on the metal tables… _they_ always watched us. Always. We never got a moment alone. You couldn’t do anything… that _they_ wouldn’t find out about. It was… it was like a _prison_ there.”

“You remember?” Lyla questions softly.

Oliver takes a shuddering breath, looking up at the humans’ worried faces. “Not a lot. Some things come in flashes in… dreams or when I close my eyes during the day. Sometimes it’s clear but most of it’s just… fuzzy. Like looking through water. It hurts your eyes to look at it and keep them open despite the fact that you know that if you can… it’ll get clearer.”

“And ‘that place’, is…?” Lyla prompts.

“Where I was… _born_? Created? There’s not exactly a verb… to…” The archer trails off, swallowing, not exactly thrilled will being bombarded with questions about _that place_ where he can vaguely remember he suffered horrifically. 

“Are you remembering anything prior to ‘that place’?” Diggle asks carefully, keeping his wording crisp and exact.

“Um… sort of,” Oliver frowns. “I mean I recognised… I kind of recognised Tommy and Laurel, like… I knew that I could trust them? That I didn’t have to fear them or… not believe them when we first met. And sometimes when I’m around the city I’ll look at buildings or shops or… well, very rarely it’s people but… I get a twinge in my mind like it’s trying to tell me that they’re familiar but I don’t… it never expands much more then that.”

“What about Thea?” Tommy inputs, shifting on his feet where he’s standing a metre away, crossing his arms. “You rescued her, right, you must have remembered her.”

Oliver frowns deeply, trying to recollect the events of that night. It’s a little unclear in his mind because of the blood loss he suffered, but he can remember it enough. “Actually, no… I don’t think it clicked at all. I don’t think I recognised her.”

There’s a beat and then Felicity suggests, “Well, it’s been nearly six years since Oliver Queen saw her… the last memory you probably have of her is of when she was twelve or something. She won’t look the same, she’d have grown up, so maybe her face is a little different so it’s not triggering the memory.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Oliver mutters, still frowning in concentration. He turns to Tommy. “Could I see her?” he asks hopefully. “I mean - maybe seeing her again, up close in daylight will trigger something in my mind, free the memory. I -” he steadies himself. “I think I’d like to meet Oliver Queen’s family.”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Diggle cuts in quickly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oliver. Let’s wait a while until things settle down some until we think about that sort of thing. Don’t you think that it would be better if we tried to get some of your old memories back before reuniting you with your - sorry, Oliver Queen’s family?”

“Is that you speaking or Price?” Felicity questions, raising her eyebrows as she slides into the seat beside Oliver, entwining their fingers.

“I actually agree with Mr Diggle,” Tommy interrupts. When Felicity glares at him, he continued defensively, “What? I’m just saying, I know Thea and Moira, they’re practically family, and knowing that Oliver’s alive but can’t remember them at all isn’t going to give them any peace.” But after a moment, he smiles. “But at least you’re starting to remember - that’s great!”

Lyla shakes her head, looking optimistic and a little excited, pulling out her phone as she stands and pushes her chair under the table. “It’s not just great, it’s amazing! I have to tell Price this. Tommy, you can have my omelette. I’ll step outside to make the call.”

Diggle stands to protest, but Lyla has already made it out out the front door. Oliver completely freezes and he stares at the doorway Lyla just exited through, dreading the idea of being dragged in by scientists into the research facility and being prodded and bombarded with intrusive questions about his memories, soon after his first visit there.

“You won’t have to repeat what you told us,” Diggle assures him, as if literally answering Oliver’s thoughts. The human pats his radio attached to his belt. “Got a microphone in it that links back with the computers back at HQ, records all our conversations for security precautions.”

Oliver tenses. “All of them?”

“We delete the recordings after,” Diggle tells him reassuringly. “We’ll just keep a short part of this one though, transcribe it and put it in your official file.” Poking his omelette and bacon with a fork, the human hums. “Still warm.”

Tommy takes Lyla’s offer and sits down in her chair, digging into the omelette and bacon heartily, obviously hungry. Felicity starts eating straight after, and every few minutes she stops to refill everybody’s drinks glasses with juice or milk. She watches Oliver, notices him not eating, but seems to realise he doesn’t want to talk, so while she takes and squeezes his hand, she doesn’t comment. It’s only when Diggle has finished, placing his knife and fork on his plate, that the others seem to realise that Oliver hasn’t touched the food and is instead sitting awkwardly in his chair, hands in his lap and staring intently down at them, every so often frowning.

“You need to eat, Oliver,” Diggle says quietly. “You’ve lost around ten pounds from not eating and you need to put on muscle, otherwise you’ll be off the streets for rehab for much longer.”

Oliver just looks at the plate of food and after a moment, raises his head and blinks at the human. “I’m not hungry,” he says flatly.

“You were a few minutes ago,” Felicity pipes up, putting her glass down to take both his hands instead of just one and rub small gentle circles into his palms, shooting him a concerned look. “You can’t just lose your appetite like that. Is it the food? Do you want something else?”

“I don’t think it’s the food,” Tommy slowly says. Oliver drags his eyes off of Felicity onto the human, and he’s observing the archer carefully. “It’s Lyla, isn’t it? You don’t like thinking about her contacting the conservation and talking to them about you.”

Tommy’s completely right, but Oliver doesn’t exactly want to admit that, so he shrugs in a non-committed way, examining Felicity’s hand so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with any of the humans.

“What is it about the conservation that you don’t like, Oliver?” Tommy presses. “You can’t just expect them to back off when they don’t know what they’re doing wrong. You need to tell them.”

Felicity adds hurriedly, “Or if you don’t want to tell them, you can tell _us, okay? You can tell _me__.”

Oliver shrugs again before saying in a small, slightly vulnerable voice, “I guess everything just reminds me a lot of _that place_ , you know?” He manages successfully to keep the wobble out of his voice.

“What was it like there?” Diggle questions.

Oliver shuts down, because thinking about _that place_ is starting to make him tremble and fill up with fear again, and he doesn’t want to have to feel afraid when he’s with these people, the only humans he would probably trust with his life. “Cold,” he replies blankly.

The front door opens and Lyla comes back in, putting her phone away. She doesn’t say anything, despite the fact that Oliver desperately wants to know what she has to say, as she draws up a chair and sits down, sipping from her now lukewarm coffee.

“Oliver,” Lyla finally addresses him. “Price would like for you to come in for a medical check-up -”

“What? No!” Felicity vehemently expression, fury flashing through her eyes like lightning bolts.

“Felicity,” Diggle says warningly. “Let’s at least hear what Lyla has to say before -”

“He does _not_ need to go back there!” Felicity hisses.

Diggle fixes her with a glare. “Felicity.”

Lyla takes her chance at the awkward break of conversation at Felicity and Diggle glower at each other, turning back to Oliver. “Price says that they need to vaccinate you against some diseases and infections that your new biology has made you possibly at risk to... if that’s okay with you?” She adds on the last part with a frown of concern when she sees the way Oliver closes his eyes and tilts his head downwards.

“What’s vaccinate?” Oliver asks hesitantly.

“It stops you from getting ill from harmful microorganisms,” Lyla answers.

“Yes, but… how do they do it?”

Lyla looks a little out of her element, so Felicity cuts in and explains helpfully, understanding his need and want to know about how everything in this human world works: “A vaccination is an injection where they put a dead or inactive sample of a harmful bacteria into your muscles or bloodstream. Because it’s dead or inactive, it can’t hurt you, but it stimulates your immune system to develop protection against that particular bacteria, so if you do come into contact with it, it doesn’t affect you, or doesn’t affect you as much.”

Oliver nods, slowly absorbing the information. “So vaccinations are good.”

She looks conflicted at first, but then after a moment: “Yeah,” Felicity nods.

“But injections are bad,” Oliver grimaces.

“... they’re not _that_ bad,” Felicity offers meekly.

“Says the girl who’s afraid of needles,” Tommy scoffs after a mouthful of orange juice.

Felicity whacks Tommy in the arm, shooting him a glare, and Tommy mouths, ‘ _ow_ ’, trying to look innocent. A small smile can’t help but break out over Oliver’s face at the small exchange; it’s so undeniably _human_ and familiar that he figures that in his memories, he’s done the same to Tommy before. There is, however, the small matter of getting the vaccinations.

“I can choose whether or not I want to have them?” Oliver questions Lyla, narrowing his eyes slightly; _those people_ never gave him any choice, and that’s obviously one stark difference between _that place_ and the conservation, if the conservationists are willing to not do something because he doesn’t want to.

“You’d have to have them eventually,” Diggle says. “Price is just giving you the choice to have them now or in a few weeks.”

Oliver turns to Felicity. “What do you think?”

Felicity taps her fingers on the table thoughtfully, then confesses to him, making sure that they’re keeping eye contact when she speaks with a grimace. “I hate the idea of you going back there… it’s what caused all these problems in the first place and I don’t think they’re going to get any better by going back. In my mind, it’s unnecessary but... “ She heaves a sigh. “Oliver, I think it’s better to get vaccinations sooner rather than later. Even I can’t argue that vaccinations will boost your immune system.”

And as he values Felicity’s opinion more than anybody else’s on the planet's, he takes her word as law, because he trusts her, she’s his light and he doesn’t think he would be able to manage without her. She knows precisely how to survive in this crippled human world, and if he wants to survive as well, then knows he has to listen to her.

“Then let’s get them done.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please leave kudos or comment, feel free to ask any questions!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	11. The Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives at the conservation, preparing for Oliver's vaccinations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had a very Merry Christmas and wishing you all a very Happy New Year. It's 2016! Yay!
> 
> Here is a shorter chapter to tide you all over. I have mock exams beginning on the 5th so won't be able to update again until the 23rd Jan... sorry. Hope you enjoy this though!

Lyla, Diggle and Felicity lead him carefully out of the apartment complex after he’s collected his bow and quiver, so they don’t run into any other humans by accident. Before, Oliver wasn’t able to gauge the time of day, but now he’s out in the open he can tell it’s early morning, just after dawn, so not many humans are about anyway.

Diggle and Felicity wait with him, keeping a cautious eye out because Oliver’s dressed in his Arrow gear and sticks out like a sore thumb, while Lyla collects the van from where she parked it last night. Tommy has decided not to join them in their little trip to the conservation and instead he promises he’ll visit soon, or call Felicity.

As Lyla drives the van up to the curb and jumps out, opening the back up and picking up a green medical bag, Oliver tenses when he realises that they’re planning on sedating him again for the journey. Felicity takes his free hand, the one not holding his bow, and tries to rub soothing circles into his palm, but he pulls away quickly, making her frown.

“No,” he says firmly, as Lyla pats the curb, urging him to sit as Diggle preps a syringe for the sedative injection.

“Oliver,” Diggle warns, glancing at him.

“We have to sedate you for the journey, Oliver,” Lyla tells him sternly. “The stress - it isn’t good for you -”

“And adding on top of what you’ve done to yourself over the last week -” Diggle continued, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“I’m calm,” Oliver insists. “I’m calm, I’m with Felicity. You don’t need to sedate me. I’ll go quietly.” He pauses before saying quietly, “Please, just no more sedation.”

The three humans exchange looks, Felicity pointedly glancing between Diggle and Lyla while she slowly entwines her and Oliver’s hands. Giving in and sighing, Lyla pushes Diggle’s wrist down gently and takes the syringe, putting it away and motioning for Oliver to come sit on the corner of the van. The archer hesitates, making a nervous titter as he catches sight of the confined space inside the van, but Felicity leads him over, comfortingly pressing into his side.

“You’ve never been awake during a car journey before, have you?” she asks.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head, then he tries to ease the tension by adding, “I don’t really need a car when I can jump across buildings.”

Felicity cracks a smile. “I guess not. But it’s a good idea to get you used to travelling in one anyway… you know, just in case in the future you need to ride in one again for an extraction or something.”

Oliver can’t help but smirk a little at that, taking the opportunity to distract her, pausing and shooting Felicity a look as he says, somewhat smugly, “I wouldn’t need a car.”

“Hush, you,” Felicity scolds, giving his arm a light smack. “No bragging.” She pauses. “Although you’re not wrong,” she admits. “You can get yourself out of any mess… usually.”

Oliver huffs amusedly. “Usually?”

“There was that one time with that zipline snapping.”

“One time, Felicity,” Oliver argues. “That was one time.”

“And that time where you had to jump off that bridge into that river -”

“Maybe I wanted to go swimming.”

“In a river?”

“Should we give you too a few more minutes to banter, or should we get going?” Diggle interrupts, despite the fact he looks like he was enjoying their conversation.

Felicity sighs in realisation, accusing the homo bellator custos, “You were stalling.”

“A little?” he confesses weakly. “I might be nervous.” Or at least that what he thinks the fluttering in his stomach signifies and the unease he feels as he glances inside the van’s cramped space.

“I’ll be right beside you the entire time,” Felicity reassures with a small smile. She turns to Diggle, questioning, “Should we get him in before starting the engine?”

“Oliver, you’ve seen a car starting before, right?” Diggle asks. When he nods, the human shrugs, “Might as well get him in.”

He hesitates when getting inside. He sits on the edge first before swinging his legs around inside. Immediately, Felicity slips inside beside him. He does startle violently when the car starts with him inside it, hands flying out to grab Felicity’s, feeling unstable on the floor of the van, but as they start moving, he calms down; Felicity stays close to him and every few minutes, Diggle or Lyla glance back at him to check he’s not freaking out. The journey lasts nearly half an hour, and when they arrive, Diggle opens the door of the back and Felicity helps him out.

“You okay?” she checks instantly, her hands flitting over his face and shoulders. “You’re not panicking, not -”

“Felicity,” Oliver cuts in softly, flashing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” Her eyes shine with concern.

“I’m sure.”

Felicity nods and goes to speak quickly to Diggle and Lyla and Oliver takes the opportunity to take in his surroundings. They’re parked on a wide expanse of tarmac that probably acts as a car park, in front of a large building that has a glowing blue sign reading GMECC, the inititals that represent the conservation, Oliver remembers. He pauses and looks up at it, switching his bow between his hands, feeling extremely out of his element. This flutters he felt in his stomach before are now full blown ripples of discontent.

“Hey, you coming?” Felicity calls.

He glances over and sees the humans waiting for him, near the building. “I can go in?” Oliver questions, eyebrows shooting upwards as Diggle opens the glass entrance doors leading to an entrance lobby. “You’re not going to sedate me?”

“Don’t see any reason why we have to,” Lyla responds, stopping next to her ex-husband. “Price is waiting for us in the Cortex, she’s bringing your main doctor to come and speak to you.” When Oliver shoots her a questioning look at that, Lyla explains, “They led the operation to remove the bullets from you and supervised when you were unconscious here, last time.”

“Is he good?” Oliver questions cautiously, with narrowed eyes.

“Oliver,” Diggle says. “The longer you survive in this world, in this city, the more you’ll learn, but there’s always one constant - not every human can be judged as either good or bad. You need to accept that.”

“John,” Felicity intercepts sharply.

“How -” He shakes off those words. He can’t deal with that right now. That’s too confusing for his mind to even comprehend.

“ _She_ -” Lyla answers his question, shooting Diggle a sideways glare as if to order him to get off the archer’s back. “- is good. You’ll like her, Oliver, I promise.”

He turns to Felicity.

“She’s really nice,” she reassures. “I know her outside of work and she’s lovely, trust me.”

“Stay with me?” he asks nervously.

“Always.”

They enter the building together, Felicity next to him and holding his hand with Lyla leading the way in front and Diggle bringing up the rear, while also covering their backs, which Oliver appreciates. The conservation’s headquarters has generally kept to the theme of blinding white and electric blue, he notices, which makes him shiver of rememberance of that place as they walk down mazes of corridors, which makes him feel uneasy; he’s in hyper vigilance mode, but he also knows that while Felicity, Diggle and Lyla are with him, he’s very unlikely to encounter any sort of danger.

However, _humans = danger_ still nags him at the back of his mind, because as they walk towards where he assumes the Cortex is, where they keep their main operation, conservationists, volunteers and staff stare at him as they pass, whispering to each other and in one case, one small group of scientists actually tails them for a few minutes, observing his reactions, and only backing off when Oliver heaves a snarl, hand partially reaching up to grab an arrow out of his quiver, despite Felicity trying to stop them; Diggle orders them to get back to their work.

They enter the Cortex, and it’s a large vaguely oval room with lots of space and computer stations around the sides where humans are working and stainless steel tables where chemicals and blood are being tested under microscopes. Flatscreen HD screens are mounted around the room, displaying various data and pictures. The largest screen, which takes up nealry the entire back wall, has been split up so small clips taken from CCTV or rare footage they’ve been able to capture of Oliver jumping over buildings or standing on highrises, surveying his territory.

It makes him uncomfortable as he watches one video in particular where he’s jogging the length of the edge of a certain building in the Glades, because of the video’s length, nearly five minutes long, which meant that there had been five minutes before when he hadn’t realised he was being followed.

Oliver just notices another screen which is comparing side-by-side videos of Oliver crouching on the top of a building and making a leap across the top of an alleyway to videos of panthers and wolves moving, when Price appears from a side-room, a wide but cold smile on her face.

“Hello, Oliver,” she greets him in a neutral voice, dipping her head as she approaches, clasping her hands in front of her.

Oliver doesn’t reply at first, only eyes her warily, gripping his bow tighter, but then Felicity nudges him in the side with her elbow and he quietly replies, “Hi.”

The entire room quietens at hearing him speak. The archer shifts a little closer to Felicity with a nervous chitter when he realises that most of the gazes of the room are set on him, watching him. He hates being watched. Price seems to realise this, because she tilts her head towards the side room and walks inside. Due only to Felicity’s prompting hand pressed between his shoulder blades, Oliver follows.

Price draws two chairs out, one for Oliver and one for Felicity, and he doesn’t want to sit, because sitting makes him feel a little trapped, but Felicity surges to to take a seat next to her, so he does. He’s still cautiously gazing about the room, noting how this one’s mounted screens display only diagrams of what looks like those diagrams Felicity once showed him about molecular structure and DNA.

“Thank you for coming today, Oliver,” Price says. “Lyla called to tell me you’re starting to gain some of your memories back, of the place where you were genetically modified. That’s fantastic. You don’t have to speak to me about it, but please know that Mr Diggle and Ms Micheals will both listen to you if you want to speak to them, and Ms Smoak of course. The primary purpose of you coming here today is to introduce you to some of your doctors here, inform you of the progress we have made so far on analysing your DNA and give you some vaccinations.” Her eyes flit towards Felicity and Oliver stiffens, wanting to step in front of his IT girl to protect her. “I presume Ms Smoak explained to you what vaccinations are?”

“Yes,” he nods, still keeping his voice small and shy.

Price smiles again and he feels a tremor go through his form. “Good. I think it would be better to introduce to you your doctor first, as she will be the one giving you the vaccinations.”

She walks around them and briefly sticks her head out into the Cortex to ask for somebody, and a few minutes later a woman with long, wavy brown hair and kind eyes wearing a white lab coat strides in. She definitely has a warmer aura than Price, Oliver notices, and he’s slightly happier to speak to her.

“Hi,” the woman greets him, with a small smile, holding her hand out. “I’m Dr Snow, but you can call me Caitlin. I’m your personal doctor here at the conservation.”

Oliver reaches out and shakes her hand for politeness’ sake, ever aware that he’s being observed by Diggle, Lyla, Felicity and Price. Caitlin looks a little shocked he’s actually shaking her hand though, exclaiming softly with a short, “Oh!” and her smile immediately widening in surprise. Felicity smiles proudly.

“I’m Oliver,” he replies, ignoring the shocked expressions of their company and plowing onwards. He actually doesn’t mind speaking to Caitlin that much. 

Caitlin nods. “Right, Oliver Queen.”

“Just - just Oliver,” Felicity quickly butts in to correct for him.

Caitlin shoots her a smile before turning back to him. “Just Oliver? That’s okay with you?”

He nods. “Yeah. Lyla said you were the human to remove the bullets in my operation?”

“Oh, yes!” Caitlin nods, her smile widening so it’s comfortable and casual. “Your shoulder wound was a nasty one, nicked your lung pretty badly, but you have an incredible healing factor. It’s fascinating, really, for all we know your genetically modified DNA could have coded for new antibodies that could possibly lead us to the cure for cancer and countless other diseases, which is partly why we’re all thrilled to have you here with us.”

He just blinks confusedly.

Caitlin gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m maybe a little excited. We just got the results back for your DNA analysis. Do you want to see?” Before he can even reply, she’s darted out to grab a folder and comes back in, standing beside him. “It’s amazing what those scientists were able to do - tiny parts of your DNA have been replaced with sections of animals DNA, like so far we’ve found some panther, some wolf, there could be a dozen others; it should be impossible, which is why it’s so interesting.“ She continues explaining double helixes and nucleotides and bases. “And it’s absolutely incredible, your species have an entirely new type of base in your DNA, completely unnamed and -” She cuts off, carefully observing Oliver’s expression. “And I lost you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Diggle and Lyla both reply at once.

“Actually, no,” Oliver replies, gazing over the diagrams of what appears to be his unique DNA with interest. “Felicity taught me a few weeks ago about genetics.”

“Really?” Caitlin questions, interestedly. “That’s great! So you did understand what I was talking about before, about the bases and stuff.”

“In humans you normally have four; thymine, adenine, cytosine and guanine,” Oliver says, jumping at the chance to prove what he’s learnt. “A and T pair together, C and G pair, it’s complementary base pairing.” He points at a small diagram on the papers Caitlin is showing him. “This is the new base, right?”

Caitlin turns the paper over to reveal a more complicated diagram. “Yes, it’s not even nitrogenous based. It can pair with any one of the other A, T, C and G bases. Due it’s presence, we can assume that there are entirely new proteins in your body. How they introduced the base into your DNA, I don’t know - they would have had to completely de-construct the nucleotides and -”

Diggle clears his throat loudly. Caitlin and Oliver glance up at him and Oliver backs away from the female sheepishly back to Felicity’s side when he realises that the other occupants of the room didn’t understand a word they were saying - except Felicity, who is still looking at him proudly, beaming. Her arm brushes up against his own, making him shudder, but somehow in a good way, a warmth blossoming in his heart as he gazes at her.

“Dr Snow is our most advanced geneticist working for the conservation,” Price jumps in, drawing Oliver’s attention back to her. “She’s currently on loan from STAR Labs, which is why we’re allowed to used their high-tech equipment.” She raises her eyebrows. “Should we get onto the vaccinations?”

“Of course,” Caitlin agrees, quickly slipping back into professional mode. “Oliver, if you want to follow me, I’ve prepped the room you stayed in before for you to have a quick medical check-up in before your vaccinations.”

His heart skips a beat and thunders inside of his chest as anxiety and worry take over him, and he tries to keep his voice calm and level as he reaches for Felicity’s hand, squeezing it tightly but not in Price’s view, and questions, “Can Felicity come too?”

Caitlin glances sideways and smiles, and Felicity grins back, winking, confirming the fact that they know each other, because Felicity would definitely not wink at a stranger. “If you want her to, of course she can.”

“I don’t think -” Price interjects, her voice back to being cold and flat.

“Pamela,” Lyla interrupts, flashing her a sharp look. “Do you think you could step outside with me for a moment please?”

Price looks suspicious, but follows Lyla outside and Diggle tails them from behind, casting one last encouraging look over his shoulder before going of out view. Caitlin shrugs and opens a side door, waving both Felicity and Oliver through it, and they step out into another white corridor. This one is much more empty so there are no prying eyes to make Oliver feel uncomfortable, but when they turn the corner and sees a human female heading towards them, he freezes, flipping his bow into his hand.

“Laurel?” he questions incredulously.

The female’s head shoots up and yes, it is indeed Laurel and she looks absolutely shocked at the sight of him, and she goes completely still as well, looking like she doesn’t know what to do now she’s confronted by him. He’s actually quite happy to see her - he hasn’t seen her since the last time she came to his den with Tommy and Felicity, which must have been weeks ago by now. Felicity tries to keep hold of his hand, opening her mouth to protest, but he still prises his hand out of hers and approaches Laurel curiously, keep his head bowed slightly.

“Arrow,” Laurel exclaims, her eyes going wide. “Er. Wow. I... didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here either,” he replies, prompting her to explain.

She ignores the prompt. “What are you here for?”

“Vaccinations,” Caitlin responds, a mask plastered over her face, but Oliver thinks he can detect some hostility in her eyes towards Laurel, which confuses him for a second.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Laurel nods. “You’re already in danger of being shot, right, wouldn’t want to run the risk of the great and mighty Arrow being brought down by the flu.” She chuckles weakly at her own joke, but it seems forced.

“Oliver,” the archer says.

“What?”

“Everybody’s calling me Oliver now.” He pauses. “You can call me Oliver too.”

“Right. Because you’re Oliver Queen,” Laurel replies, somewhat bitterly.

“He doesn’t like people calling him Queen,” Felicity interjects, giving Laurel a smile, but it seems tight and a little cold. Her eyes don’t hold her usual kindness, and Oliver narrows his eyes at the two humans, wondering if they’ve had some sort of disagreement. “He can’t remember anything about his past life as a Queen, only his first name, so we’re not calling him Queen.”

Laurel looks extremely uncomfortable. “Right,” she says. “Well, uh. I - I have to go. It was nice seeing you, Oliver, Felicity.” She begins walking away hurriedly, only pausing to dip her head towards Caitlin, acknowledging her with a brisk, “Dr Snow.”

“Ms Lance,” Caitlin responds shortly.

The archer watches her walk away briskly, his heart sinking. Why is she acting so cold towards him? Has he done something wrong? He hasn’t seen her in ages - in what way could he have offended her when he couldn’t even speak to her? Human emotions are all over the place.

Humans are strange that way, he guesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please leave kudos and comment! :)
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	12. The Vaccinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin gives Oliver the vaccinations. He doesn't react well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey! Back with a new chapter! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> My upcoming HTTYD!Arrow AU Olicity-ish fic is coming soon, approaching first part being posted, for Geniewithwifi's birthday :) If you guys want there's some info about it on my Tumblr page, alexiablackbriar13.tumblr.com.
> 
> There's this update today, and an update next week, but then I'm afraid I'm on hiatus again due to more exams. It never seems to end for me... I'll update my Tumblr and Twitter with writing updates though, so you can find out how I'm getting on there.
> 
> Thanks for all your support once again. I really appreciate all the love and comments and kudos I have been receiving. You're all amazing readers and an amazing fandom and I couldn't ask for anything more. Please remember to leave kudos or review after reading :) And enjoy Arrow S4B!!

As soon as they’re clear of her, and Laurel has gone around the corner, Oliver turns to Felicity and Caitlin, glancing between the two females. The both of them are exchanging exasperated loos while sighing and he frowns while switching his bow between his hands. 

“Is she angry with me?” he asks quietly.

Felicity purses her lips in distaste. “Yes,” she finally replies. “But she shouldn’t be, Oliver. You don’t deserve her anger.”

“Is she angry at me because of Sara?” he questions after a moment, blinking at Felicity, remembering what she had told him about past-him, Oliver Queen-him cheating on Laurel with her sister, Sara, and taking her onto the Gambit, which led to her drowning.

To his surprise, it’s not Felicity who replies, it’s actually Caitlin, who answers with, “Yes. She won’t stop talking about it, actually. It’s pretty annoying, she won’t shut up about it.”

“She works here?” Oliver frowns. “I thought she worked at CNRI.”

“She volunteers here,” Caitlin says. “Price asked her to join the GMECC’s legal team after she found out Laurel has been spending time with you, mostly to get information about you from her.”

Oliver looks back to where Laurel vanished to. “What was she doing here today?”

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “God knows. Sometimes she likes to just lurk, making not so nice comments about your past human self. She was probably here dealing with paperwork. She and the legal team end up dealing with the bad humans you deal with but don’t kill, making sure ‘justice is served’.” She motions with her head and they start walking again, navigating down the corridors.

“Can I ask another question?” Oliver asks.

“Well, technically, that was another - sure, go ahead. To me or Felicity?”

“Both of you, I guess?”

“Go on.”

“Does Lyla not like me?” Oliver questions bluntly.

Felicity halts. “Why would you ask that? Do you think that she doesn’t like you?”

“I’m not blind, I can see she’s… tense all the time around me. And she talks very shortly. And doesn’t look at me in the eyes. She doesn’t like me, does she?” And there’s something off with the human female that he’s been noticing for a while, something he can’t put his finger on.

“I wouldn’t say she doesn’t like you,” Felicity replies slowly. “I think she just doesn’t know how to act around you. She’s not conservation, she’s on loan from another organisation that she won’t tell us anything about. Bit ominous if you ask me, but she says it’s classified, so it’s probably something to do with government.”

For some reason, that only makes him even more uneasy. “Do you trust her?”

“I don’t really know her all that well,” Felicity admits sheepishly. “But I trust Dig, and he trusts her… I think.”

Caitlin crosses in front of Oliver and opens a door. “In here.”

Oliver gazes around impassively, recognising the room as the small white one he woke up in before, after he got shot in the alley-way and first was brought into the conservation facility. It makes him shiver and he immediately shuffles closer to Felicity, needing the security her presence and aura provides for him, and she turns around and leads him inside, walking backwards while keeping their hands linked.

“Oh, well, this is cosy,” Felicity comments when they enter. “Oh, hey, your blankets and pillows and stuff from your nest are still here, Oliver, look!” She points at the small pile. “I thought they would’ve burnt them. They must be keeping them in case you have to stay overnight here.” Her expression darkens. “Not that we ever want that to happen again.”

“Should I sit down?” Oliver questions.

Caitlin shrugs, opening up a metal briefcase resting on the stainless steel table with her back to Oliver and Felicity, prepping something. “Sure, if you want to. It depends how you are with needles.” She stops and grimaces, turning back apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think - since you can’t remember anything, you probably can’t remember if you have a needle phobia or not.”

Felicity draws two of the metal chairs from under the small table and pushes him down into one of them gently, sitting down beside him so closely that she presses her side into his comfortingly. Taking his bow from him, Felicity puts it down on the table next to Caitlin’s briefcase. They stay in comfortable silence as Caitlin prepares what Oliver assumes to be the syringes and needles for the vaccinations.

“Okay, Oliver,” Caitlin says kindly, not turning towards them quite yet. “I’m going to vaccinate you into one of your upper arms. I know your archery is very important to you, so do you have a preference which arm I inject in to?”

“My left,” he quickly replies. He can deal with a little pain in his left arm, the one that holds his bow. He needs his right arm strong so he can draw back the bowstring. “Can you do it in my left, please?”

“Of course,” Caitlin nods. “Can you take your shirt off please?” After a moment where Olivr hesitates, not wanting to feel vulnerable by removing his clothing, she seems to realise he’s anxious. “Oliver, you don’t need to worry,” she says very softly. “I’ve already seen all your scars and tattoos from when I operated on you to remove those bullets. I’m not going to ask about how you got them or what they mean. I don’t care about them.”

“I don’t care either,” Felicity added, rubbing circles into the palm of the hand that she was holding. “Any scars you have just prove that you’re strong, and that you’re a survivor. That’s not something to be disgusted by, that’s something to be admired.”

A little reassured, he nods and finally strips off his hooded Arrow jacket before pulling off his black under-shirt and exposing his upper torso, immediately twitching in discomfort and making a small uneasy noise, squeezing Felicity’s hand tightly. Caitlin turns around, with a syringe in hand, barely even blinking at the thick ropey scars and evidence of extreme torture.

“Alright, Oliver,” Caitlin says calmly. “We’re going to be giving you five vaccinations today. There aren’t any courses required, but you will have to get boosters for them in a few years time for safety.” She raised the syringe. “This first one is a three-in-one diphtheria, tetanus and polio vaccination.”

She steps in front of him, holding the needle up and looking him directly in the eyes to tell him silently to prepare himself, reaching forwards and directly the needle downwards, starting to lower it. Oliver watches with wide eyes. The needle’s about an inch above his skin before he reacts instinctively and yanks his arm away, jumping up. Before he knows it he’s on the other side of the room.

Felicity concernly questions, “Oliver?” and he internally berates himself.

“Sorry, I don’t know… I don’t know what happened there,” he mutters, forcing himself to return to his chair and sit down, steeling himself again. “Couldn’t help it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I hate needles too,” Felicity smiles reassuringly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s perfectly natural. I think everybody has some aversion to sharp pointy things.” She frowns. “Except arrows, in your case.”

He manages a grin. “I do like arrows.”

“Why don’t you look away, Oliver?” Caitlin suggest. “That way you don’t have to look at the needle. You might feel better.”

It sounds like a good idea, but he bites his lip. “Um, okay, but could you tell me when you’re putting the needle in?” He wants to know when it’s going to be put in him, piercing his skin, but he doesn’t particularly want to look at it.

“Of course,” Caitlin agrees.

They wait a few seconds for Oliver to settle, then with a short warning, very quickly the doctor gives him the injection. There’s a sharp prick in his upper arm and he flinches slightly, but it fades quickly, only leaving a slight ache. It’s only after the needle is pulled away from his arm that he realises what’s just been done to him and he clams up. He begins sweating nervously, twitching and wringing his hands, for some reason known to him. While he was vaguely uncomfortable before, now he’s scared. Actually, he’s terrified. When Caitlin turns away to grab the next syringe, his breathing kicks up slightly. Felicity gently takes hold of his chin with the hand he’s not squeezing so hard he’s cutting off her circulation, turning his head towards her so she can look him in the eyes. Whatever she sees there must worry her.

“Oliver?” Felicity asks hesitantly. “Are you okay? You don’t look very good.”

“I -” _Cold hands held him down mercilessly, needles dancing in his vision, pain erupting all over his body._ His breath catches and he chokes, “Felicity -”

“Caitlin?” Felicity says worriedly, leaping up from her chair and crouching in front of him, cupping his face with one hand while resting her other on his right shoulder, as if bracing him. He whines, dropping his head onto her shoulder and nuzzling into it as quiet, scared whimpers escape his throat.

Caitlin wheels around, the next syringe forgotten, rushing back towards them and taking hold of Oliver’s wrist to measure his pulse. Oliver feels like his chest is tight and he’s getting random, occasional phantom stings all over his body, his breathing stuttering and shallow, as if he can’t get enough oxygen.

“Oliver?” Caitlin says slowly. “Talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

_Another needle, this time one the length of his forefinger, appeared in his vision, then without warning it was pushed into his chest._

“I think I’m remembering,” Oliver whispers, choking the words out and clutching Felicity’s hands like their his lifeline tucking his head into the crook of her neck.

Caitlin observes him carefully for a moment, her eyes wide, then she swears quietly and speaks to Felicity softly. The next minute, both the females are easing him up from the chair and settling him on the ground in the centre of the improvised nest they’ve made out of the blankets and pillows taken from his den.

_He screamed in pain. Agonising burning rippled through his chest. The needle was withdrawn slowly, as if those humans were prolonging his suffering, and he thought it was over, he sobbed in relief, but then - another needle, the same length._

“Felicity,” he gasps. “I’m remembering. It’s - I’m remembering _that place_.”

“Okay, Oliver, alright, stay calm,” Felicity says back, looking shaken. “It was the needle, right? The needle that triggered it?”

He doesn’t reply, just digs his nails into his palm, hard enough and deep enough to start drawing blood, desperately needing to ground himself to reality. Felicity makes to pull away to stand up, and his hands shoot out to grab her wrists to anchor him, refusing to let her go. _Mine_ , comes the random, unexplainable thought. _Mine. Mine. Don’t let go._ He doesn’t. His breathing is so messed up that he’s beginning to not get enough oxygen and black spots are beginning to appear in his vision.

“I’ll get Mr Diggle,” Caitlin says, making to leave the room, but at Oliver’s sharp growl at that, she halts in her path, after a moment questioning cautiously, “Oliver?”

“I - I think I’m okay,” he says. “Don’t get anybody. Just - give me a minute. Please.”

A minute passes, and he doesn’t feel any better. In fact, he thinks that his breathing rate may have increased slightly, so he’s getting less oxygen. His muscles are so tensed that he’s actually beginning to shake. Panic clouds his mind, as well as fear. Felicity sits next to him the entire time, not touching him but staying close, looking immensely worried.

Felicity exchanges a look with Caitlin, but she looks on helplessly. Finally, the blonde seems to take over. “Oliver,” Felicity says calmly, moving slightly so she’s kneeling down in front of him. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re safe, both Caitlin and I are here, and it’s going to be over in three minutes, okay, if you just listen to me and do what I tell you to. I’m going to help you get through it, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says weakly. _Mine. Mine. Mine._

She raises her right hand and puts on her chest, over her heart. “Put your right hand over your heart.” He does so quickly. “Breathe in as deeply as you can for five seconds, then breathe out for five seconds.” He breathes in and breathes out, but it’s difficult. “Good. I want you to concentrate on your hand. Flex the muscles in your hand, Oliver. Breath in and out again for five seconds each, and use your hand to feel yourself breathing. Breathe out through your nose.”

He obeys every one of Felicity’s commands, listening to her voice and doing what she says when she asks him to concentrate on certain parts of his body, starting from his feet and heading upwards until he has to concentrate on his hand over his heart again. He realises, after Felicity stops giving commands, that he’s breathing in and out deeply by himself, and he feels a lot calmer. _Mine. Don’t let go._

“How do you feel?” Caitlin questions, her eyes flitting over his face concernedly.

“Better,” he croaks, still feeling a little weak, but stronger than before. “Thank you.” He motions to where he knows the metal briefcase holding the other syringes are. “You can give me the other vaccinations now.”

“I don’t think so, mister,” Felicity says sternly.

“Felicity, I just want to get them over and done with,” he sighs, leaning his head onto her shoulder tiredly, nuzzling into her neck again to catch a whiff of her comforting vanilla and lavender perfume. _Don’t leave. Mine._

The blonde whips around to look at the brunette. “Caitlin? _Please_ tell me you’re with me on this. It’s too soon after his panic attack, it could trigger another one!”

“Actually, Felicity, I agree with Oliver,” Caitlin says. “It would be better to do them now before he has time to work himself into a panic. If we agreed to do them another day, he would just get even more nervous and then next time, he would definitely have a panic attack, probably an even more severe one. But as a doctor, I do have to ask -” She turns to Oliver with a very serious expression. “Are you _absolutely sure_ you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he responds without hesitation.

“Okay, stay sitting down there, we’ll do them on the floor so that if you do have another panic attack or faint, there’s less chance you’ll get injured by falling over.” It only takes her thirty seconds or so to prep the next needle. “So this one is a four-in-one measles, mumps, rubella and shingles vaccine.”

She gives him the vaccination while gauging his expression carefully. He does flinch, but not as badly, and keeps his breathing under careful control, reminding himself mentally that he’s safe, he’s in Starling City, and both Felicity and Caitlin are with him. Felicity grips both of his hands and occasionally rubs between his shoulder blades to ensure he’s not panicking. He never wants to let go of her. _Mine._

Caitlin comes back with two needle syringes this time. “I’ll do these two straight after one another. This first one is the Men ACWY vaccine and the second one is the two-in-one flu and pneumococcal vaccine.” She does both of them quickly and efficiently, and by this time Oliver’s left arm is aching so much that he hardly feels the needles. “Now this last one,” she says, returning with the last vaccination. “It’s a bit of a strange one, for me at least. Director Price told me that due to your modified DNA, you’ve become exposed to various diseases that affect animals, but I don’t exactly know what this one is for.”

“You’re giving him a vaccination that you don’t know what it contains?” Felicity translates.

“I know it sounds bad, but they’re not exactly going to make me inject Oliver with something that would be harmful to him, would they?”

Felicity shakes her head. “You’re not giving him that.”

Caitlin looks a little unsure at whether she should or not herself, so she lifts her head and questions, “Why don’t I pop out for a moment and have a talk with Director Price, see what it’s for?”

“Good idea,” Felicity nods.

Caitlin leaves the room after putting the needle syringe back in its case, closing the door behind her. Oliver and Felicity sit in silence for a few seconds, but then Felicity squeezes Oliver’s hands and swivels around so she’s crouched in front of him.

“I don’t like this,” Oliver tells her worriedly.

“Neither do I,” she agrees, biting her lip. “The fact that they didn’t tell Cait what it’s for…”

“I don’t like Price either,” Oliver adds.

Felicity screws up her nose in distaste. “Yeah, can’t argue with you on that one. She’s icky. And by icky, I mean… she makes my stomach squirm whenever she talks. She keeps repeating she’s doing everything for ‘the greater good’ and your ‘safety’, but I think she’s got ulterior motives.”

Caitlin returns then, but she’s not smiling. “They say it’s rabies.”

“And do you think it’s rabies?” Felicity raises an eyebrow.

“No. But Price says Oliver’s not allowed to leave the facility unless he has it.”

“I knew that bitch was up to something,” Felicity mutters under her breath. “Well, can we just not give it to him?”

“You forget that there are cameras and microphones in here,” Caitlin says softly. “They’ll know if we don’t. And they’ll probably take me off Oliver’s case and assign a new doctor who won’t care about what Oliver wants. And they won’t let him go back out into the city without this done.”

“I’ll have it done,” Oliver interrupts.

“You don’t have to,” Felicity responds immediately, turning to him, looking immensely concerned. “You honestly don’t have to, Oliver. We can tell Price about your panic attack, say that it triggered something that we don’t know, get them postponed. She won’t be able to hold you here, we can get you out -”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to,” Oliver cuts in, twisting nervously. “I want out of here. If the quickest way out is to have that vaccination, whatever it may be, I’ll have it.”

“I hate this,” Felicity growls. “I hate that they’re forcing you into this - I hate them. No offense, Caitlin.”

“None taken. I don’t like this as much as you don’t. But if Oliver’s fine with me giving it to him… There will be residue left behind in the syringe, I’ll test it and text you later.” Caitlin gives him the last injection. Oliver tenses and inhales sharply, eyes slamming shut, a wave of tiredness washing through him as he relaxes when Felicity rubs his arm. Caitlin puts the empty syringes away into the briefcase and turns back around, with a small smile. “All done. You did great, Oliver.”

“Can we go now?” he asks, hating how his voice sounds so exhausted.

“I think Director Price wants to speak to you before you leave,” Caitlin tells him, checking her phone. “But other than that, yes, you can leave. Thank you for being so patient with me, Oliver. And thank you for talking to me. I know you don’t particularly like talking to humans you don’t know. You could have shot me with an arrow for giving you that injection and causing that panic attack, but you didn’t, so I’m grateful for that.” She hands him back his bow, flicking her hair out of her eyes with a grin with her other hand.

He can’t help but quirk his lips up in a quick, small smile. “You’re a good human, Dr Snow,” he tells her sincerely.

Caitlin blinks and then her grin widens, until she’s actually beaming at him. “Thank you. And please, if I can call you Oliver, then you can call me Caitlin.”

“Caitlin,” he hums, nodding.

The three of them walk back to the Cortex together and as they walk, exchanging occasional glances, they all seem to silently come to an understanding that neither Price nor Diggle nor Lyla need to hear about Oliver’s panic attack. Oliver subconsciously slips closer to Felicity as they enter the busy workspace, his eyes narrowing and his movements becoming stiff and jerky as he tries to access every possible danger. Price is standing in the corner next to a monitor, pointing out some data to Diggle and Lyla; both of the humans look disinterested in what she’s saying, but are still politely looking, listening and nodding every once in a while. The head conservationist straightens and drops her arm as she spots them approaching, causing both Diggle and Lyla to turn around to greet them.

Oliver notices that both Diggle and Lyla are somewhat shielding him from Price’s view, acting as barriers between them, and with Caitlin and Felicity at his back, he feels protected in the busy, human environment, so he relaxes his shoulders and loosens his grip on his bow.

“Everything went well, I presume?” Lyla questions, lifting one eyebrow.

“He’s _such_ a sweetheart,” Caitlin gushes, nudging Lyla in the side as she comes up beside her to lean back on the counter. Turning towards Diggle, she continues, “I don’t know what you were saying before about him being ‘difficult’, John, he was fantastic.”

Diggle looks unimpressed, but Oliver knows that secretly the human is a little shocked. “Oh, really?” He fixes a questioning look at the archer.

He shrugs. “Caitlin’s nice.”

Diggle lifts his head slightly, glancing at Caitlin and commenting, “High praise coming from him.”

Caitlin smirks. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“So you’ll be okay with seeing Caitlin again?” Diggle questions him.

“Sure,” he replies.

Diggle narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Like I said before, she’s nice.”

Diggle grins, turning back to Caitlin. “Okay, seriously, did you give him cookies or something?”

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “Yes, of course, I gave the _homo bellator custos_ chocolate chip cookies and he immediately liked me.”

Diggle snaps his fingers, teasing, “Knew I should have led with the cookies when I first met him.”

Caitlin checks her watch. “Well, I have to go. Dr Wells is expecting me at a meeting in an hour or so and I have to finish up one of my experiments before that.” She tilted her head at Price, Diggle and Lyla. “Director Price, Mr Diggle, Ms Michaels.” When she turns to Felicity, she gives her a quick hug that makes Oliver shift on his feet, preparing to protect her if need be, murmuring, “Text you later, Felicity.” Pulling away, she wheels around to Oliver and sticks her hand out again, which he quickly takes. “Oliver, it was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“You shouldn’t really.” Everybody’s eyes skip to Felicity and Oliver grins when the blonde blushes, straightening her glasses in embarrassment. “I - I only meant that if Caitlin sees Oliver again soon, it’ll be because he’s injured or something, and that would be bad - I wasn’t saying that Oliver’s not a good person to see again -”

“Felicity,” Oliver interrupts shortly, smiling. _Mine._ “We get it.”

Caitlin brightens. “Oh, actually, Oliver, could I ask for a favour? You see, I have a friend who works at STAR Labs, his name’s Cisco - he’s really into tech stuff and he - er, I realise this might be a little weird - but he wanted me to ask you if he could have one of your arrows to examine, because he thinks he might be able to improve them.” She paused and then shook her head. “No, forget about it, running through that again, it sounds really creepy.”

Oliver glances towards Felicity. _Mine._ She’s watching him carefully, and when he swallows, cocking his head a little at her, requesting her opinion, she just nods with a little smile, telling him that she’ll support him whatever he decides. So with a flourish, he pulls one of his green-fletches arrows from his quiver and passes it over to Caitlin carefully, making sure to angle the razor-sharp arrowhead away from her.

Caitlin looks down at it with a stunned expression. “Oh, _wow._ Oliver, you don’t have to -”

“It’s fine,” Oliver says. “I make them all myself, and I must have dozens of them down in my den, missing one isn’t going to hurt. You can tell your friend Cisco that I’m interested in hearing what improvements he recommends.”

Price clears her throat, clearing dismissing the geneticist. Caitlin shoots her a glare, but with one last goodbye, she departs, only glancing back once to smile at them. Oliver watches her go, and as soon as she’s gone, he takes a step closer to Felicity, almost pressing their sides together, as if he’s trying to reassure himself that she’s there. The archer turns to look at Price, who is gazing at him, obviously wanting to talk.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Oliver,” Price says in a benevolent voice, but the coldness in her eyes betrays her. “We have a lot to discuss.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos or review in a comment :) If you have any questions I will gladly answer.
> 
> Tumblr: alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: lexiblackbriar


	13. The Colloquium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Price, Oliver, Felicity, Diggle and Lyla have a conversation. Oliver gives Lance, Dig and Lyla a tour of the Foundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! Happy Saturday. Hope you've enjoyed your week. Thanks once again for all the support I constantly receive and all of your fantastic comments. Very much appreciate it.
> 
> And hey, if you enjoy my AUs, go and check out _How To Train Your Vigilante_ , my new Arrow!AU fanfiction that I'm writing for geniewithwifi. It's based on How To Train Your Dragon, with Oliver as the vigilante Night Fury dragon (secretly a shapeshifter, a transgenic experiment) flying around saving the city, getting injured and crippled (like Toothless did) and Felicity making friends with him.
> 
> Thanks anyway! Hope you enjoy this chapter :) Please leave kudos or comment at the end, the motivation it provides is excellent!

His human friends gather around him when they sit down, as if protecting him, watching his back from all sides. Price leads them to a small circular conference table in a side room off of the Cortex, with sharp artificial lighting and only the bare essentials present, which in this case, is the table and five chairs. Glancing around cautiously, he lowers himself into a seat, sitting on its edge so his quiver brushes the back of it, placing his bow down on the table in front of him and bracing his hands either side of it; Price slides into the seat opposite, gazing at him intently the entire time, while Felicity and Diggle take a seat either side of him, Lyla between her ex-husband and Price.

“I’ve been speaking to Ms Michaels,” Price says. “When I debriefed her about the event of last night, she told me you’re having difficulties accepting and adapting to a life where the conservation is able to monitor you. Do you agree?”

He casts a look towards Felicity ( _mine_ ) and then towards the rest of the humans, allowing confusion to show on his face. What does it matter what he thinks?

“You’re allowed to have an opinion, Oliver,” Lyla tell him, looking angry, but not at him - at Price, for driving him to the point where he thinks he cannot have a say in his own life. “If you want the conservation to back off slightly, give you more space, we will.”

A little disbelievingly, distrustfully, he questions, “Really?”

“Oliver, you could have _died_ last night,” Diggle says gruffly, arms across his chest, expression serious. “You had such a big issue with the conservation that you willingly starved and sleep-deprived yourself to avoid it. If we don’t take into account your feelings, your attitude towards what we’re doing, in our opinion, to help you and your species, then this -” He waves his hand between them. “This is not going to work out. And you’re going to end up seriously hurt in the process.”

“So with that in mind,” Price cuts in. “Do you think that the conservation are being too intrusive in your daily routine?”

He swallows, finally replying, but not directly to the question; “I don’t like the idea of being watched and observed all the time. It sets me on edge and makes me paranoid. I can’t focus on anything else when I know I have to worry about being followed.”

Price look displeased, but she nods. “Thank you for telling me that. I thought that may be the case, but having you confirm it for us, allows us to properly take action.” She pulls out her phone and begins crafting what Oliver suspect are emails. “I’ll contact the police to ask them to stop patrolling your hunting grounds, and I’m going to request the removal of the cameras we’ve placed in your den. Bear in mind that we have only your safety at the forefront of our minds, so we won’t be removing the microphones and motion sensors planted in the Foundry, but camera footage isn’t essential and will significantly increase your privacy.”

His heart skips a beat. He frowns. He was planning to move his den. He didn’t want any intrusion to his den and nest. “I was going to move.”

“There’s no need to do that anymore,” Price says without looking at him, instead leafing through files.

“But I want to.”

“Why?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I just want to.”

Price narrows her eyes at him. “Where are you planning to move to?”

He blinks at her, because he doesn’t have an answer. Firstly, why would he tell the humans he’s actively trying to avoid where he’s going to build his new den when he’s running from his original one in the first place because they found it? And secondly, he doesn’t have a plan of where he’s going to move to. He just thinks that he would pick a secure location in the Glades.

“Why’d you need to know that?” Felicity pipes up for him, suspiciously.

“Because we need to monitor his movements coming and going from a central location,” Price replies. “His den fit the bill. If he’s planning to move, we need to move, with our monitoring equipment, with him. I can lessen the intrusion to his privacy, but can’t completely let him go running around the city without tracking his movements.” She shoots Oliver a look that makes another shudder run through him. “So are you going to be moving your den?”

“No,” he replies in a small, vulnerable voice, feeling cornered.

“Can you promise me that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Price makes some notes on her file. “It’s kind of ironic really. An amnesiac Oliver Queen building up his base in his father’s old steel factory. You probably didn’t know that when you originally set up there, but that Foundry belonged to Robert Queen and is now in the hands of his son.”

“I’m _not_ Oliver Queen,” Oliver says harshly and coldly.

Price ignores him. “I can get the cameras removed from your current den. But in order for me to do this, you are going to have to agree to some terms.”

“Name them,” he counters immediately. He’ll do almost anything to get those cameras removed from his den so he can finally return there, have a safe base where he’ll be able to rest and recover, meet his human friends.

“The first,” Price says, opening a folder and glancing across the papers. “Is that I would like you to remain in contact with Detective Lance. The police department are opening up their servers to you so you can gain any information about your targets more easily, and also the Hood-investigation task-force Detective Lance heads has been asked to co-operate with you fully, and stop intefering with your duties.”

Oliver shrugs. All of those terms are fine with him - in fact, it would probably help him a lot more, and he doesn’t mind Detective Lance; having the police back off completely would be a great help. “Okay. Anything else?”

“I’d like you to begin involving Mr Diggle and Ms Michaels in your duties.”

Panic strikes him. “No,” he protests immediately, keeping his tone flat. “I work alone.”

“I don’t mean take them with you when you go patrolling or confronting those corrupting Starling. I simply mean that I would like you to allow them to listen in and communicate with you using Bluetooth communication devices and monitor you by CCTV in the tech area set up inside your den.”

“I don’t work with humans.”

“That’s a shame,” Price responds coldly. “Because if you cannot bring yourself to somehow bear Mr Diggle’s or Ms Michaels’ company, then I’m afraid I won’t be able to order the removal of the cameras.”

A growl pools at the base of his throat and he curls one hand over his bow, eyes flashing threateningly; Price, to her credit, barely bats an eyelid but Oliver can tell from the way her muscles tense that she’s scared of him, feels threatened by him, and she should - he could so easily kill her.

“Oliver,” Felicity whisper warningly from the side, raising her eyebrows and reaching over to tug at his elbow to draw his attention away from the female conservationist. Once she’s got his eyes fixed on her: “Think this through. Would it really be so bad to have John and Lyla watching your back through comms and cameras? To have them as back up in case something goes wrong?”

“Nothing _will_ go wrong,” he insists.

“Really? Because your three healing bullet wounds don’t support that. Your work is dangerous, Oliver. You can so easily get hurt, and injured, and one wrong move, one bad judgement call and that could be it.”

He understands what she’s saying, but he still doesn’t like the thought of having two humans poking and prodding at his duties, judging him for what he does, for what he feels like he has to do. “Okay, I get your point, but I stand firm with my previous answer. Which is no.”

“Oliver -”

“They don’t understand about the balance. No human ever really could,” Oliver grits out. “You don’t know - you even even begin to comprehend… the corruption of humanity. How the ratio of good humans to bad needs to be… balanced.”

“ _That_ doesn’t make _any_ sense,” Felicity protests, stabbing him in the chest with one finger. “Surely you don’t want balance, you want the proportion of good to be higher than that of the proportion of bad.”

“I -” Oliver stops, his eyes wide. He blinks furiously and then swallows. He’s never thought of that before. “Felicity…”

She seems to realise that unsettles him and rubs her brow. “Okay, okay, sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… I shouldn’t have thrown that on you. Don’t think about that for the moment, okay? Just -” She inhales sharply, annoyed. “How is having John and Lyla sitting at your computers, talking to you and watching you, any different to when Laurel, Tommy and I did it?” Felicity argues. “You know what - you’ll actually be a lot safer, because they both know what they’re doing tactically and they both have military experience. And they’re not going to judge you for what you do, Oliver.”

_Listen to me, mine!_ A low snarl escapes his lips towards her, but she doesn’t react beyond raising her eyebrows. A brief silence falls, and it’s only then that Oliver remembers that they’re not alone and glances over at the other humans in the room. Price is looking calculatingly between the two of them, obviously listening to their conversation seriously, while both Lyla and Diggle look like they have been enjoying some sort of movie, lips pursed in slight amusement.

He shifts uneasily and says to Felicity quietly, “I don’t feel comfortable involving humans I don’t know very well in my work.”

“Then _get to know them_ , Oliver,” Felicity replies, equally quiet. “John and Lyla are good people. They’ll be able to help you in ways that Laurel, Tommy and I won’t be able to. Please, Oliver, just try.”

“You can give us a trial period,” Diggle agrees, nodding across the table at him. “Just a week or two, Oliver. If you don’t think it’s working out, we’ll re-negotiate, sort something else out that might work.”

He can deal with that. “Okay,” he swallows. “But only one of you at a time. I can’t afford any distractions when I’m out on patrols.”

Price smiles pleasantly, somewhat triumphantly, clasping her hands together and nodding, “Thank you, Oliver. I’ll arrange for immediate removal of those cameras.” She turns to Diggle and Lyla. “Drive him back there, the cameras will be removed by then, and make sure he re-settles back in. Familiarise yourself with his equipment, with the building and with the area. Your own equipment is ready to be picked up on the way out. We’ll speak more later about both of your contracts, but as of now I want you to stay with Oliver.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Diggle replies blankly, standing from his chair, Lyla following suit.

“I think I left my coat in that room Caitlin vaccinated Oliver in,” Felicity says, rising next to Oliver and placing one hand gently on his shoulder, “I’ll just go grab it and meet you guys by the van.”

“Actually, Miss Smoak,” Price answers coolly, fixing her hard gaze on her, “I’d like to speak with you privately.”

Oliver immediately tenses and steps slightly in front of her protectively, glowering at Price, because Felicity is _his_ , but she ignores his gaze and instead stares straight at Felicity, anticipating her answer. Felicity looks taken back for a moment, surprised, but then that expression quickly falls into one of suspicion and wariness.

“Sure,” she replies, eyes narrowed.

“Felicity…” Oliver says lowly, not knowing how to express his emotions; he doesn’t want to go anywhere without her, he doesn’t want to leave her alone with Price, but he also knows that it’s inevitable he’s going to have to do both of those things. _She’s mine, she should stay with me_ , continues his thoughts, and although he doesn’t precisely know where they’re coming from or why, he can’t argue with them.

But he doesn’t have to say anything more. Felicity squeezes his hand and promises firmly, “I’ll be fine, Oliver. Go on ahead with John and Lyla, and I swear, I’ll catch up with you later.”

He seriously doesn’t like it. Not all at. Leaving _mine_ with these humans makes his insides squirm, but Felicity doesn’t look like she wants to discuss this. He hesitates, but gives in with an exasperated huff. “Okay. I’ll probably be going out to patrol at seven, so come before then?”

“And I’ll bring food,” Felicity promises. “For you two as well,” she adds quickly on the end, casting a glance over Oliver’s shoulder to smile at the humans tasked with returning the archer to his den. She squeezes his shoulder, whispering, “Bye,” before following Price out of the room, casting a glance back to smile reassuringly.

He watches her leave, swallowing slightly, before turning his gaze sideways to Diggle and Lyla, who are gathering their coats and looking at him carefully. Rising, Oliver grabs his bow and flips up his hood, and follows the two of them out of the facility, keeping his eyes lowered as they make their exit. He sits in the back of the van as they travel with his head tilted backwards and eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing under control, because he can’t help it.

Oliver desperately wants Felicity. _Mine. She’s mine._ He feels awful and uncomfortable about leaving her behind in that facility, and he doesn’t like the fact that he’s now alone with two humans that he doesn’t completely trust. 

However, all those thoughts magically evapourate temporarily from his head as he clambers out of the van as the three of them arrive, parking in front of the Foundry, and sees Detective Lance parked up only a few metres away, leaning on his police car and sipping from one of those takeway cups of coffee. He blinks in surprise for a moment, a soft exclamation escaping his lips, and after exchanging a quick look with Diggle, who assures him silently with a nod that it’s safe and alright with him, he approaches the detective carefully, keeping his head low and feet nimble, as if he’s approaching a bad human.

It’s probably because Oliver is so quiet when sneaking up that when Lance does look up, he startles violently, coffee sloshing everywhere from his cup and stumbling forwards a bit off of the hood of his car as Oliver comes into view right in front of him.

“Geez,” Lance grits out. “Guess I’m gonna have to get used to the sudden popping up out of places, huh?”

“Detective,” Oliver greets him formally as he pushes back his hood to reveal his face, although he internally smiles, because he secretly loves the way he can make humans jump. He first did it accidentally, appearing out of the shadows very quickly when Felicity, Tommy and Laurel came to visit, and Laurel had screamed quite loudly and leapt into Tommy’s arms. He chuckles just at the memory of it, before his expression falls now he remembers that Laurel hates him. Well. Hates Oliver Queen. He may not be Oliver Queen, but apparently she doesn’t care about that.

“Yeah, let’s go with Quentin,” Lance replies, looking like he wants to pat Oliver on the shoulder in a somewhat fatherly way, but then thinking against it, withdrawing his hand, which Oliver thinks is a good call. Even now, his instincts are still primal in nature, and foreign unexpected touches signify danger to him, except Felicity’s touches, that is.

“Detective,” Oliver corrects with insistance.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He turns to Diggle and Lyla, dipping his head slightly but definitely standing up a little straighter. “Mr Diggle. Ms Michaels. Price said you’d be here - presume all the vaccinations went well?”

“According to Dr Snow, Oliver was wonderful,” Diggle answers dryly.

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and Oliver scowls at him. “For some reason, I doubt that,” Lance responds. “He’s been nothing but trouble since he got here.” He says it like he means it in a bad way, but the way it comes out, he sounds amused. Like he finds it funny that Oliver gets into so much drama and action despite his best efforts not to. That makes Oliver scowl even harder at him, baring his teeth a little in a small snarl. “We gonna get this over and done with then? I’ve got a meeting at the precinct to get to in an hour, and last time I was late, I had to pay for the group takeaway, and that’s not cheap when you’re on a cops’ salary.”

Suspicion and concern flash through the archer, and Oliver narrows his eyes, shifting worriedly and falling back into a defensive position as he tightens his grip on his bow, glancing between the three humans as he questions distrustfully, “Get what over and done with?”

“It’s okay, Oliver,” Lyla reassures him with a small smile. “Detective Lance has come just to get a look at the layout of the Foundry. Price requested it.” Her smile widens a little as she suggests wryly, “Why don’t you give us a tour down there?”

He makes an unsure noise at the back of his throat, casting a suspicious look between all three of the humans. All three of them are new humans who have never been in his den before, never entered his safe space, and he feels like he’s going to shatter his security by letting them inside his den. He wants Felicity. She would be able to comfort him, reassure him. _Mine._ He shakes his head, frowning at the thought that just pops up again, for what he thinks must be the dozenth time.

“Oliver?”

He glances up to see Diggle watching him cautiously.

“You okay?” he questions.

Oliver shrugs, fiddling with his bow string. “Sure.”

“No, you’re not,” Lance responds bluntly. “What’s wrong? And don’t lie, like you just did. You’re awful at lying.”

“I, um…” He looks up at the detective. “I want Felicity.” He cringes immediately.

“Hey, that’s okay, man,” Diggle says. “You’re allowed to want her.” He pauses before asking, “Are you not comfortable with us going inside your den?”

“Remember, you’re allowed to have a say,” Lyla adds.

“Not really,” Oliver swallows.

“Okay,” Diggle replies. “What makes you feel uncomfortable about that idea? The idea of us in your den?”

“How am I meant to know?” Oliver replied defensively. 

“I said don’t lie,” Lance reminds.

“I’m not lying, I’m just....” the archer trails off, shifting nervously.

“... avoiding my question,” Diggle finishes flatly.

Oliver huffs frustratedly, turning away and striding away from the humans towards the wide entrance doors of the Foundry. He doesn’t have to answer any of their questions if he doesn’t want to, so he won’t. He’s aware Diggle, Lyla and Lance are exchanging raised eyebrows and glances behind him while following him down the clunky metal stairs into his den. He halts hesitantly in the middle of the Foundry and stares at the three humans as they began familiarising themselves with his set-up, with his den, looking awed and curious as they walk around.

Lyla sets the duffel bag she is carrying thats undoubtably filled with conservation equipment, firearms and new comms on a counter, and Oliver immediately moves over to pick it up and move it back onto the floor. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he can’t have the duffel on that counter. That’s the counter where Laurel works with her papers. Nothing else is allowed to be on it except take out food.

Lyla shoots him a weird look and tries to put the duffel back on the counter, but when he bares his teeth and stops her with one hand.

“Why can’t I put the duffel down there, Oliver?” she asks patiently.

“That’s Laurel’s counter,” he replies. “That’s where she works.”

“And that means I can’t put the duffel down on it?”

“Yes. Um. No. You… yes, you can’t put the duffel down on it. Not there.” He pauses. “You can put it over here.” He takes it from her, placing his bow down on his weapons table before dropping the duffel on a metal stool next to it, gazing at it for a moment until a satisfied feeling flashes through him and he can move away, pleased.

But as he turns back around, he sees Detective Lance sitting down in Felicity’s chair in front of her computers and his stomach drops. “You can’t sit there.”

Lance looks up at him, startled. “What?”

“You can’t - you can’t sit there.” He tries to rein in his fury at seeing Felicity’s ( _mine_ ) space violated, because he knows that the detective doesn’t really know it’s Felicity’s chair and that he wouldn’t be sitting there if he did. “That’s Felicity’s chair.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns and he swiftly stands, pushing it back under the computer set-up table and stepping back. “Sorry.”

“So you go on regular evening patrols?” Diggle questions as he crouches a little to examine his arrows. “Did Felicity, Tommy and Laurel usually run comms, tech and back up for you?”

He shrugs, feeling a little territorial and protective over his equipment and wandering closer to make sure the humans don’t accidentally break any of his arrows, machines for making them or the computer set-up. He also steers them clear of his nest in the corner. He doesn’t want their scent all over his blankets and pillows, haunting him as he sleeps.

“They hung about,” he answers. “Felicity liked to make sure I wasn’t in any danger, watched CCTV. Laurel and Tommy occasionally fed me information if I needed it. But they didn’t like getting involved.”

“I wonder why,” Lance grumbles sarcastically.

He shoots the detective a glower, which makes him shrink into himself slightly, uncomfortable under the archer’s scrutiny, so he turns back to Diggle and Lyla. Diggle is fishing out new electrical devices and setting them down on the designated tech table; Oliver keeps a careful eye on him, making sure he’s not planting bugs.

“So, uh…” Lance starts, somewhat hesitantly, following Oliver around the den as the archer picks up arrows to re-fill his half empty quiver. “Price mentioned over the phone that you’re starting to remember stuff.”

Diggle’s head snaps up and he says in a warning tone, “Quentin…”

“I’m just curious,” the detective replies defensively.

“Don’t push him,” Diggle cautions.

“I’m not planning to!” Lance responds. “I’m just, you know, interested to know about what he’s, er, recalling.”

Oliver pauses as he comes to a realisation, putting the arrow he has just picked up carefully back down on its stand and turning to face Lance warily. “You want to know whether or not I can remember what happened to your daughter.”

“Sara Lance,” the detective nods. “So -”

“Felicity told me about how she got onto that boat with Oliver Queen,” Oliver cuts in. “She told me about how the boat went down in a storm, about how she’s dead and you and Laurel blame Oliver Queen for that.” He shakes his head. “I’m not Oliver Queen.”

“And I know that,” Lance agrees, desperation leaking into his voice as he comes forward a little further, closer to him, wringing his hands. “But please, if you can remember anything from back then, anything about my baby girl… I just want closure, Oliver.”

The archer grimaces. He wishes he could give that to the detective. He deserves at least that. But he can’t help him. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything that far back. I’ve mostly been getting brief flashes of my time at - that place - nothing more. But as soon as those memories start coming back, as soon as I can remember Sara, I’ll - I’ll tell you.”

“Thanks,” Lance says with a sigh. “Just, that would do Laurel and I some real good.”

“I saw Laurel today,” Oliver quirks an eyebrow, changing the subject. “She was at the conservation.”

That doesn’t seem like news to the detective though. “Yeah, Price wanted her there for some sort of meeting. Didn’t say what about.”

“She hates me.”

Lance looks awkward at that. “Yeah, I know. She shouldn’t though. Even I think that’s going too far. She doesn’t hate you you, she hates Oliver Queen. We just gotta get across to her that you’re not Oliver Queen anymore, and she’ll back off.” He waves his hand, adding, “You don’t have to worry about that, Merlyn and I’ll deal with that, bring her around.”

Uncertainty sweeps through him. “I don’t think Tommy likes me very much either,” Oliver comments lowly.

Lance protests at that immediately. “Tommy doesn’t dislike you. He’s just confused. All of this, all of what’s going on… it’s all just over his head, you know? Over all our heads, to be honest. He looks at you and sees his best friend who can’t remember he’s his best friend, who’s going around taking down the criminals of this city. Kid wants to do what’s best for you, but right now he doesn’t know whether that’s letting the conservation take over or not.”

“Give him a few weeks,” Diggle advised, piping up from where he’s setting up more lighting around his and Lyla’s new work area.

Lyla’s phone rings. She picks up and moves into the corner to talk quietly for a moment to the human on the end of the line, but Oliver doesn’t really pay attention, thinking she’s probably speaking to the conservation, instead listening to Diggle and Lance as they strike up an easy conversation about firearms and the schematics of their different hand guns. But then she hangs up and strides back over towards them.

“That was Felicity.” He perks up instantly, blinking at her. Mine? “Something’s come up with her work and she can’t come. She said she’s sorry and that she’s sending Tommy over with the take out - whoa, Oliver, wait -”

Oliver is already out of the door.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment :) I will gladly answer any questions!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	14. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver confronts Felicity in her apartment. Caitlin also calls with news about what was in the injection.
> 
> ( **WARNING: Mentions of self-impregnation, male pregnancy** )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday :) I'm back! Hope everybody enjoyed their week.
> 
> Bad news I'm afraid - like I've had to do with _How To Train Your Vigilante_ , I'm going to have to drop to fortnightly updates. So there will be an update every other Saturday from now onwards, just until I get my workload under control.
> 
> Thanks again to everybody's amazing and wonderful support! Please remember to leave kudos and comment :) True fact: comments encourage fanfiction writers to write more, at a faster pace. *nods in agreement*
> 
> Enjoy the chapter :)
> 
> **WARNING: Mentions of self-pregnation, male pregnancy**

It barely takes him twenty minutes to reach Felicity’s apartment. He doesn’t know how exactly he knows where it is, its address, but he’s somehow drawn there, some sort of internal navigation system guiding him, a pull on his body as he races over rooftops and leaps alleyways. It’s nearly noon, probably the busiest time of day around Starling, and he can hear shouts and loud gasps from below in the streets as humans catch a glimpse of him, and while usually that would bother him, cause a burning itch under his skin because _humans = danger_ , because usually he hates being spotted, it doesn’t bother him now. 

Felicity is far more important.

He debates knocking on the front door, but then pushes that thought aside and swings down to the side window of her bedroom, quickly breaking past the flimsy lock and pushing it open, slipping inside. He pushes his hood back as he does so, revealing his face and running one gloved hand through his hair, closing the window carefully behind him before tracking Felicity’s distinct scent of lavender, vanilla and honey, of _mine_ , and finding her sitting on her couch in the living room, head in her hands and muttering under her breath.

His heart stops when he sees her and he inhales a shuddering breath as that feeling comes over him again, and thoughts of _mine, mine, mine_ , start repeating over and over, taking over his mind.

“Felicity,” he announces his presence firmly, startling her.

Felicity jumps up, first in fright, but then annoyance and something else he can’t recognise passes over her face as her eyes widen. “Oliver. What are you doing here?”

“Why did you call Lyla and tell her you couldn’t come?” he counters.

Felicity ignores that question, pushing past and beginning to close all the curtains and drapes so other humans obviously don’t peer in and catch sight of him in her appartment. But as she does so, she tells him strongly, “You can’t be here. You need to go, Oliver.”

His heart twists. “What? _No._ Why?”

“You just need to go!” she turns, shouting, and that’s when Oliver knows that something’s wrong. If Felicity really was angry at him, she wouldn’t yell. She would use her loud voice, scold and take charge, telling him what he had done wrong, but here, this isn’t anger at him. Sh’s angry at somebody or something else.

“Why are you angry?” he asks.

“I’m not angry,” she spits.

“Yes you are. You’re shouting,” he points out.

“Just because I’m shouting, it doesn’t mean I’m angry, Oliver!” she hisses.

“Okay, so you’re not angry,” he allows. “Then why are you shouting?”

“You just need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He takes a step forward, raising his hand to take hold of her elbow and turn her towards him so they can meet eyes and speak, but she flinches and pulls back, swiftly moving across the room and putting distance between them as she scrambles to grab her cell phone from the kitchen counter. “Felicity…”

“Please leave, Oliver,” she says, her voice cracking, eyes shining with suddenly appearing tears. But then instantly she forces herself to tense and harden, her eyes becoming expressionless again, and it’s such a backlash that Oliver makes an afraid noise, stepping back. “Oliver, leave right now. I don’t want to have to call Diggle.”

He buffs his chest out and announces firmly, strongly, “I told you before, I’m not leaving. At least not until you tell me why you want me to.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as they stare each other down. Oliver is silently pleading that she’ll back down. _Please, mine, don’t do this_. Felicity gazes at him searchingly, her eyes running up and down him. There’s still distance between them, a distance that he’s trying to eliminate by taking small baby steps towards her when he thinks she won’t notice.

“Don’t, Oliver,” she warns, when she catches on to what he’s doing. She raises her phone. “I’ve asked you four times now, and this is your last chance. Please leave.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

Felicity’s lips tighten. “I’ll call Diggle and ask him to pick you up,” she replies, in a dead voice.

He’s so worried about her, wanting to know what’s wrong, why she’s doing this, why she wants him to leave, but with that last statement of hers announcing that she’s going to call Diggle to get him physically removed from her apartment, he _breaks_ , feeling something that feels like devastation.

“Why are you pushing me away?” he questions, this time with a tremor in his voice. “You - you said you were always going to stay with me and now you’re - now you’re saying I can’t - I can’t -” His chest is tightening, in a way that reminds him of his panic attack that morning, and he presses a hand to his heart, his knees feeling weak. Within seconds, his legs are giving out under him as his head spins from lack of oxygen.

Immediately, as if by instinct, Felicity rushes to him. She catches him under his shoulder and heaves him onto the couch, her hands flitting over his face, his shoulders, his arms, her eyes alight with concern as she presses into his side, wrapping around him. Almost instantly, he calms, tucking his head under her chin and breathing deeply and slowly, eyes slipping shut as he composes himself. Her warmth is, as always soothing, and as _mine, mine_ , echoes, he clings to her. Her guilt is immediately palpable in the way she runs one hand through his hair, hushing him, her eyes haunted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. Please, Oliver, I didn’t mean it, _please_ tell me you’re okay.”

He chokes out, “You wanted me to leave, you… you wouldn’t let me touch you…”

She hugs him even tighter. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

“Why do I need to leave?” he questions quietly, huddled next to her. She doesn’t reply, so he glances up at her, his voice dark, “Did Price say something to you?” Once again, no response, but he takes that as a confirmation. He tenses like a taut wire, fury taking over and shaking his very core. “ _I’ll kill her_.”

“She just disapproves.”

“I’ll still kill her.”

Felicity rans a hand through his hair, sighing. “You kill her and the entire conservation, the police, the government are entitled to take you out.”

“I don’t care. I’d escape. I’ll still kill her.” He pauses. “What does she disapprove of?”

Felicity visibly hesitates. But then, she changes position, so she’s standing in front of Oliver, where the archer is seated, twisting her hands together and looking at him directly in his eyes, her own ocean blue one’s shining, causing flutters in his chest. “Okay, Oliver. This is going to be really weird but… You have to listen to me and try to understand this from their point of view, okay?”

“O...kay?”

“So you remember how Laurel told us that your species is able to self-impregnate?”

His stomach drops. “Yes.”

“Price says you’re coming into your fertility peak.”

He freezes. “... What does that have to do with any of this?”

“It’s -” She looks like she wants to be sick. “The conservation say that as you come into the peak that you’re - your instinct will be to find a mate. Attach to them and… and either reproduce with them or form a bond with them that’ll hold out through your pregnancy. Price said they’re in the process of trying to find a possible female mate for you, another _homo bellator custos_ that… that you’ll be able to have a pure-blood baby with. Or if they can’t find a female, they’ll find a male for you to accept so the baby can be raised properly by two parents.” Felicity looks down at her hands. “They’re worried that that won’t be possible anymore because of the fact that -” She halts, closing her eyes.

Oliver feels like he’s about to throw up too. “...that, what?”

“That you’ve attached to _me_ ,” Felicity whispers.

He goes completely still at her words. He would deny them, protest at that, say that there was no possibility of him attaching to her as a mate, except he already knows that he’s fallen to instinct. His urge and need to always be near Felicity, the warm, fuzzy feelings he gets when near her, the electric spark that jumps between them when they touch… those constant possessive thoughts, proclaiming the blonde as his. 

“That wouldn’t… be true, would it?” she asks nervously.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Because it’s completely and utterly true.

“Oliver, it’s not true. Tell me it’s not true.”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can stutter out.

Felicity looks astonished beyond belief. “It’s true?”

“I don’t…”

“A simple yes or no answer would suffice.”

He swallows. “Yes.”

“Oh my god. Ohhhh… my god.” Felicity turns away, looking shocked and stunned and her hands shaking uncontrollably. She starts pacing around the living room before bracing herself on her kitchen counter, breathing shallowly. “You’ve attached to me. You, the _homo bellator custos_ , the Starling City vigilante, have attached to me, an ordinary, boring regular human being. This can’t be happening, this can’t -” She blows air out of her mouth, shutting her eyes. “You probably didn’t even know what was happening. Price said it was a natural, gradual process, the attachment, the choosing of one’s mate but _Oliver_ , you just had to go and pick _me_ of all people?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Okay… okay, okay, okay…” Her pacing continues as she runs a hand over her face, obviously trying to think. “Okay, first and formost -” She whips around and points at him. “ - The conservation and Price _cannot_ know about this. In any shape, manner or form. They’ll try and take you away, split us up… the stress of it could kill you. She said that stress has been proved to be five times more deadly your species than humans. So Price can’t find out.” She resumes her pacing. “Diggle and Lyla, we’ll decide how to approach them with this later. We’re gonna need their help with this and we can’t keep them in the dark forever. They’d find out eventually. We’ll also have to tell Quentin and Tommy at some point. God, this is… this is beyond complicated.”

Oliver trembles in his seat, croaking out, “I’m so sorry I’m causing you all this trouble…”

“Hey, it’s not trouble.” Felicity finally gives in and settles next to him, pressing into his side soothingly with a heavy sigh. “It’s just a little unconvenient. We can deal with this. I know you didn’t know this was happening, I certainly didn’t, so we’ll take it just a few steps at a time, alright? It’s gonna take me some time getting used to this whole mate thing, for sure. I don’t even know what it means. Do I have duties and stuff?”

He leans into her and rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes in relief that she hasn’t pushed him away for this, but instead drawn him closer. He didn’t realise how scared he was of being rejected by her for something controlled by his biology until now. Except she hasn’t rejected him. She’s supporting him through this, like she always has, realising that they’re both victims in this situation. They both didn’t know this was going to happen. They couldn’t control this. Now they have to just deal with it.

“You’re actually pretty much already doing all the duties of my mate without even realising it,” Oliver admits after a beat of silence. “So it’s not going to be that hard for you.”

Felicity shifts on the couch she she’s sitting cross-legged next to him, her head tilting curiously. “So what do I have to do?”

Oliver hesitates at first, at giving away his species’ habits and customs, despite the fact he doesn’t really understand or know how exactly he knows them himself, but he gives in when he realises that Felicity’s just plain curious. “There’s the little things,” he admits. “That you’re already doing. Sometimes without even realising it. Things that you were doing, and I was doing that… that must have triggered the initial recognition of you being my mate. Like...” He motions between them. “The touches. The closeness. The talking… I’ve talked to you more than I have any other humans combined.”

Felicity chuckles warmly. “I think that might be because I can never keep my mouth shut and we end up having unnecessarily long conversations.”

Oliver dips his head and murmurs shyly, “I like our long conversations.” Felicity blushes slightly so he continues, “You’re the one human I’m not afraid to make eye contact with. And you don’t hesitate to call me out when you think I’m wrong.”

“Or acting stupid,” Felicity adds. “Or when you act without thinking first. Which, to be honest, you do quite a lot, Oliver.”

Oliver smiles. “You’re doing it right now.”

“I guess I am,” Felicity grins in return. “Guess I’m better at this mate thing that I thought I’d be, huh.”

He hums in agreement. “I want you closer to me.” When Felicity raises an eyebrow, he shifts uncomfortably. “You know what I mean. I don’t like not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. When you stayed behind with Price at the conservation while I had to leave...” He shudders at the memory.

“Am I going to have to move into your den with you? Because that’s slightly crossing a line. If I have to move in there, we’re going to at least have to buy some beds. And a wardrobe. And install a proper shower. And a coffee machine.” She quickly turns back to him. “Wait, no, not a coffee machine. There’s no way we’re letting you have daily access to coffee. Don’t get your hopes up, mister.”

Oliver surveys the appartment as he suggests somewhat hesitantly, “I could move in here?”

Felicity shakes her head. “No, that won’t work out… you told Price you weren’t going to be moving your den, if you move here that’s pratically moving, and she’ll find out about you choosing me as your mate… she’ll try and separate us. It’ll be better if I move into the Foundry. But only semi-move. Price is already suspicious of us and she wants me to stay away from you, so we’re going to have to be clever about this.”

He licks his lips, frowning as he questions nervously, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? With this whole… being my mate thing? I don’t want you to feel like you’ve been forced into it or… or feel like you haven’t got a choice here.”

Felicity sighs, glancing down at her hands. He’s struck with worry for a moment that she’s going to back out since he’s offered her the chance, but then she tells him, softly, reassuringly, “I’m not leaving you, Oliver. You need me right now, and I’m pretty sure that I need you too… you’re not going through this alone.” She tries to lighten up. “Besides, this whole mate thing… being your mate, it can’t be so bad. Probably means I get to have my say, doesn’t it?” She looks smug now. “Which means you have to properly listen to me when I suggest you take Diggle and Lyla on.” Her expression quickly morphs into horror though when she adds hurriedly, “As long as you’re not going to suddenly try and jump me or anything -”

Oliver very quickly shakes his head. “No! No, that - Um, no…” He squirms a little at that. There’s some part of him telling him that having sex with Felicity would be weird, since she’s too close a friend to him for that, but then there’s that primal, instinctive side pressing insistingly, _Mine. Mine. Mine._ “I - I mean… Not if - Um… no.”

Felicity frowns and opens her mouth to question his mumbling, obviously wanting to know more, but then her cell phone buzzes, startling Oliver so violently he lurches from the couch and from Felicity’s arms with a feral growl. It’s only after Felicity shows him that it’s just her phone vibrating that he calms, blinking at her apologetically.

“It’s Caitlin,” Felicity tells him, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I’ll put her on loud speaker.” Pressing the answer button, she greets the human on the end of the line with a cheery, “Caitlin! What’s up?”

“ _HI FELICITY_ ,” comes a male voice, shouting so suddenly that Felicity drops the phone, picking it up hurriedly. “ _IS OLIVER THERE? TELL HIM I LOVE HIS ARROWS BUT I HAVE SOME IMPROVEMENTS -_ "

“ _CISCO, GIVE ME BACK MY CELL PHONE RIGHT NOW._ ” There’s static on the end of the line that signifies a struggle for the device, until Caitlin’s voice comes through much more calmly than before, “ _Hi, Felicity. Sorry about that. Cisco snatched my phone off me._ ”

“No problem,” Felicity replies, amused, smiling at Oliver so he smiles back, settling back on the couch next to her. “Oh, and Oliver’s here too. You’re on speaker phone.”

“ _Oh, hi Oliver! _” Caitlin calls.__

“ _HI OLIVER! _” Cisco yells, his voice coming from further away, " _I LOVE YOUR ARROWS BUT I THINK IF YOU CHANGED TO AN ALUMINIUM -_ " and there’s the sound of Caitlin harshly scolding Cisco, which makes Oliver crack a smile. __

“Hi,” he says back, less shyly due to the fact he knows Caitlin, but still wary of Cisco.

“ _Cisco’s agreed to shut up for a moment, so I think we’re safe from him. But I think you both know why I called. Okay, so I ran those checks on the residue left in the syringe, of that last injection we didn’t know anything about. Well, Price said it was rabies, remember, but we didn’t believe her._ ” Caitlin’s voice drops and she adds morosely, “ _You’re not going to like what I’ve found._ "

Felicity swallows. “It’s bad?”

“ _Way worse than I thought._ ” Caitlin sighs. “ _I orginally thought it might be liquid nanites. The conservation just recieved a new benefactor you see, a new research and development company that’s just been created called Palmer Technologies. The CEO specialises in nano-technology, so I thought it that it was nanites, that would hang about in Oliver’s bloodstream and act like a back-up tracker, monitoring his vitals. But it’s not nanites. I wish it was nanites know I know what it was. I had to ask Cisco to hack into the conservation’s servers to get a real sense of what they’re trying to do… it’s not good._ ”

Oliver makes a low sound of confusion but also worry, slipping his hand into Felicity’s and pressing into her side, his muscles tensed. Felicity immediately notices hi anxiety and replies, “Lay it on us, Cait. Oliver’s getting antsy, you might as well get it over and done with.”

“ _It’s going to take a while to explain._ ”

“Why don’t you start off by telling us what the injection was actually for, before telling us what was in it?”

Caitlin sighs heavily, coming through as static over the line. Felicity and Oliver exchange glances when they hear Caitlin quietly but firmly ordering Cisco to give her the room. When Oliver makes another worried sound, Felicity squeezes his hand and shakes her head, trying to reassure him that everything’s alright. But it’s not. Oliver knows that. He was injected with a foreign, unknown substance that he doesn’t know anything about, that could be doing who knows what to his body, and that terrifies him. It makes him fear humans even more than he did before.

_Humans = danger_ applies here at this moment more than it ever has.

“ _The injection was comprised of a series of active human pregnancy hormones, therefore I’ve come to the conclusion that Price and the conservation are attempting to trigger Oliver’s self-impregnation._ ”

Oliver freezes and goes still in shock. But he doesn’t know why he’s stunned - suddenly everything makes sense. Price checking whether or not he would be able to self-impregnate, her driving Felicity away from Oliver because of his fertility peak, wanting to find him a mate to either pro-create with or attach to during pregnancy… the conservation are attempting to urge his physical body into having a baby.

That’s what they’re goal has been all along - they want more _homo bellator custos_ babies. A sudden need to protect sweeps over him as he reaches down and wraps his arms around his stomach as a rough noise escapes his throat. He’s not letting those humans anywhere near his child, if he ever has one. He’d die before he’d let that happen.

“Oliver?” He glances up to find Felicity blinking at him, lips pursed in distress and worry. She reaches up to run a hand through his hair as she whispers, “Are you okay? Is this too much? Caitlin can tell me and then I can tell you later, at a slower pace, if this is too fast for you to process.”

“No, I -” He clears his throat. “I want to know. Now. What they put in my body, how this is going to -” Oliver closes his eyes. He can’t even form proper sentences. The part of his mind that enables him to speak human speech is being overwhelmed by the primal part of him screaming that he needs to run from the humans, get to safety to protect any potential future offspring.

But he refuses to run from Felicity. He refuses to run from his mate.

“I’m staying,” he announces seriously.

Felicity gazes at him uncertainly for a moment before nodding, saying, “If you’re sure… Caitlin, go on.”

“ _Is Oliver okay?_ ”

“I think he really just wants to know what’s going on right now,” Felicity responds.

“ _Alright… Essentially what Price is trying to do is trigger ovulation and prepare Oliver’s body for pregnancy, to encourage and promote the self-impregnation part._ ” There’s faint scrambling for notes. “ _Male homo bellator custos… okay, that’s too long. I’m going to stick with Bellators for now. Male Bellators don’t have ovaries or a uterus persay, they have egg sacs, with diploid eggs that don’t need to be fertilised in them. The best way I can describe them is that they’re kind of like tiny clones waiting to happen. They also have some sort of very small empty fleshy sac in their pelvis. The egg sags are situated either side of the bladder and the small uterus-like sac sits just on top of it. There's no birth canal in males, which is why the pregnancy is a lot more dangerous, because it requires a C-section when it comes to the actual birth... Anyway, to get on with my point..._

" _Somehow when the species is threatened, the male can sense it, which triggers the pituitary gland in the brain to prompt the release of a hell of a lot of oestrogen and progesterone, that makes an egg release from an egg sac and latch onto the side of the uterus-like sac. That starts to develop and as it does it undergoes a load of random, spontaneous genetic changes. So the baby kind of isn’t a clone, even though it is? I don’t know, this is data they took from the last male pregnancy they studied of the species, and it kind of doesn’t make much sense._

“ _From what I can tell from my own tests and what we’ve been able to gather from the conservation’s files that Cisco hacked, what they’ve done is inject Oliver with a mixture of enhanced active human hormones, suspended in a glucose-rich tissue fluid. There’s oestrogen in there to prompt the release of the egg, some Human Chorionic Gonadotropin, a hormone that triggers the body to start building up the uterus walls and progesterone to maintain that lining and adjust the body to the development of the fetus. There’s some relaxin and oxytocin as well, but only in small quantities._

“ _But they’ve had to inject some human DNA in there is well. I can’t really think of a proper explanation of why they need it, but I think it might be because - well, you know how a Bellator baby bonds to its parent or parents and that they can’t survive without them? I think Price is trying to compensate for that, introduce a tiny smidge of human DNA into the baby so that it’ll accept a human to bond with and can survive without its parent.”_

Oliver’s trying to process all of his, this mind working at a million miles per hour, hands clenched and teeth gritted as he leans into Felicity for support, when his mate pipes up beside him, her voice deathily calm, “Who, Caitlin? Whose DNA did they inject into Oliver?”

There’s a beat of frigid, tense silence. “ _At least we have an explanation for why Laurel’s been spending so much time at the conservation,_ ” Caitlin finally says, her voice flat and dead and dripping with disdain.

Oliver’s eyes grow wide in horrow just as Felicity gasps in furious protest, “ **NO!** ”

“ _Yes. Looks like Price’s chosen who she wants to be Oliver’s human mate if they can’t find a Bellator one. Price injected Oliver with Laurel’s DNA._ ”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment :) I'll gladly answer any questions and take feedback!
> 
> Tumbr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	15. The Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin, Oliver and Felicity discuss. Lance visits, and there's a team meeting, which of course ends disastrously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Longer chapter for you all here, 6000 words. And yes, the Laurel DNA thing is sorted. Don't sweat it. Please.
> 
> And can I just say, _WOW_. Last chapter response was just... amazing. I didn't know so many people were out there reading this fic. It astounded me and it was massively encouraging. Thanks so much to all of you who commented and left kudos!! It really motivates me to write. And since it's a 2 week gap between chapters now, who knows, if I get a lot of feedback for each chapter, I might make sure the word count for each chapter is longer... especially for you guys. *wink*

Emotions are confusing, Oliver muses, as his hands curl into fists, gripping the green leather of his jacket as he sits, tensed like a live wire on Felicity’s couch, his mate beside him ranting furiously at Caitlin on the phone. One part of him wants to curl up in a tight ball, Felicity’s arms wrapped around him as he cries, and another part wants to jump up and trash everything in sight.

“There has to be a way to reverse this, Caitlin!” Felicity snaps down at the cell phone.

“ _Felicity, it’s already done. There’s no way to reverse this. But fortunately, things aren’t set in stone. Just because Price and the conservation injected Oliver with a load of pregnancy hormones and Laurel’s DNA, that does not mean that it’s going to immediately trigger Oliver’s self-impregnation and lock Laurel’s DNA into the fetus. There’s already a first line of defense, and if that fails, there are other ways I think I might be able to help._ ”

“Okay, okay,” Felicity exhales slowly, calming herself slightly. At that point she reaches over to Oliver, sensing his distress and pulls him closer to her, entwining one of her hands with his while the other rubs his shoulder soothingly. The cell phone’s balanced on the armrest of the couch as his mate focuses on him, and for a brief moment Oliver can forget the stress, the pain, the horror of this awful situation the conservation has forced him into and just melt into Felicity’s touches with a purr. “What’s this first line of defense?”

“ _Part of how whoever created the Bellator species adapted them to be the most efficient, strongest warriors was genetically enhancing their immune systems. Oliver possesses the best immune system currently known to man. Any foreign DNA entering his bloodstream, and yes, that includes Laurel’s DNA, is going to immediately be identified and treated like a hostile. It’ll be regarded as a bacteria, a harmful virus that poses a threat to him. Oliver’s white blood cells will instantly respond to remove that threat by breaking it down chemically. The pregnancy hormones won’t be affected, so there’s still a high chance his self-impregnation will be triggered, but Laurel’s DNA won’t remain in his system to become part of the baby._ ”

“That’s a relief,” Felicity mutters, Oliver making a soft sound of agreement as he lifts his head up slightly into the hand that’s now making its way through his hair. “And what if that first line of defense fails?”

“ _That’s extremely unlikely, but if that did happen, like I said before, there are certain measures I can take to make sure that it isn’t Laurel’s DNA that plants inside the fetus._ ” Caitlin sighs, sending static through the phone. “ _And that’s by injecting somebody else’s blood into him. Now I know you’re going to protest, but hear me out, alright? At the moment, Laurel’s DNA is the only foreign DNA in Oliver’s body. If another sample of DNA from a more genetically compatible source is injected instead, if that first line of defense of his immune system destroying that DNA fails, then there’s a higher chance that Oliver’s body will accept that more genetically compatible DNA in place of Laurel’s._ ”

Oliver speaks up, for the first time in a several minutes, to ask warily, “And what exactly counts as a genetically compatible source?”

“ _Another member of your species, obviously. Which is why Price is trying to find another Bellator to transport over here at the moment. But your species has a special selective sense, in which you can actively select somebody the most genetically compatible with you._ ” Caitlin pauses and adds at the end, “ _That’s the choosing of your mate, Oliver. I know it’s very highly unlikely, but if your body has naturally resonded to another’s and picked out a potential mate for you, Laurel’s DNA won’t have a chance._ ”

Very slowly, Oliver and Felicity turn to gaze at each other, wide-eyed, Felicity’s mouth dropping open slightly. Something that feels like utter relief plows through Oliver’s body as he drops his head down on Felicity’s shoulder with a shuddering breath, releasing another gentle purr-like noise. Felicity responds by pulling him in closer for a hug, and Oliver can feel she’s muttering, “ _Thank god, thank god,_ ” under her breath.

“ _Felicity? Oliver? You two still there?_ ” When neither of them reply, still torn up in each other, in their relief, they hear Caitlin’s faint voice, “ _Hey, Cisco, our cell tower signal didn’t suddenly fail, did it? I think I just got cut off from Oliver and Felicity._ ”

“We’re here, Caitlin, we’re still here,” Felicity quickly calls out, releasing Oliver and scooping up her cell phone to hold it between the two of them. “That, um, what you just said just massively reassured us.”

“ _Really? It’s just theory, I didn’t really -_ ” Caitlin cuts off and there’s a beat of silence before there’s a small, “ _Oh,_ ” of realisation. “ _Well… that’s convenient. Your body is very convenient, Oliver. You should probably say thank you to your biology’s need to have a stable life partner._ ” She doesn’t sound freaked out or disgusted, at least, and actually Oliver thinks he can sense a hint of relief from the doctor’s voice as well.

“So we’re okay? Oliver’s body, it’s not going to accept Laurel’s DNA? Not when he… you know. Already has a mate,” Felicity says awkwardly.

“ _It’s very highly unlikely Laurel’s DNA will survive long enough to impant in a self-impregnated fetus when Oliver has a more genetically compatible mate, yes. That said, there is still a very small chance, one I am not comfortable leaving alone. If you two don’t mind, I’d like to arrange some sort of meeting so I can give Oliver a blood transfusion from you, Felicity. That way he’ll have some of your DNA in his system and Laurel’s won’t have a fighting chance._ ”

“Good idea,” Felicity breathes, running a hand over yourself. “Text me later, okay? I think there’s a more pressing matter at hand for both Oliver and I, and that’s finding out whether or not Laurel was aware that her DNA was being used by the conservation in that injection. Because if she was, we need to have a very serious conversation.”

“ _I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that. You’re terrifying when you’re angry, Felicity. Bye for now then. See you both at some later time._ ” Caitlin’s voice softens. “ _And Oliver, I wouldn’t worry. Felicity and I aren’t going to let anything happen to any baby you could potentially have._ ”

“Thank you, Caitlin,” he replies quietly.

They hang up, and they sit next to each other in blissful silence for a few minutes. Oliver just watches Felicity, watches her lick her dry lips and blink her eyes, listening to her breathing. Because while before he had thought of Felicity as a blessing, now he thinks of her as his mate, his chosen for life, and his and his potential baby’s saviour.

Felicity moves into action the moment Oliver shifts beside her. She stands and grabs her laptop from the kitchen counter, easing back down beside him again before her hands begin dancing over the keyboard. Oliver frowns, trying to keep up with what she’s doing, but she’s too fast.

“I’m hacking into Laurel’s cell phone GPS,” Felicity tells him, without him even needing to ask. “If we’re going to confront her about this, we need to know where she is.” She stops her typing and squints at the screen, flicking one strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “She’s at CNRI. Probably at work.”

“Let’s go talk to her,” Oliver says stiffly, rising and stretching out slightly in his leathers.

“Whoa, mister,” Felicity replies, raising an eyebrow as she shuts her laptop screen. “You are aware that with going outside during the day time comes with a lot of public attention. You were probably seen over a dozen times on the way here, do you really want to be seen another dozen when leaving?”

“Then what do we do?” Oliver asks impatiently.

“Firstly, I have to text Diggle and Lyla and tell them that you’re safe with me,” Felicity informs him, picking up her phone and tapping out some texts and sending them quickly. “I’m guessing you ran out on them unexpectedly, and they’re probably already on their way here. That tracker chip in your neck has its purpose, you know. Secondly, I think it would be a good idea to arrange a meeting with her on our home ground. Detective Lance and Tommy could probably convince her to come to the Foundry this evening for us to talk it out.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Not the Foundry. Price set up microphones and motion sensors there, remember?”

Felicity wrinkles up her nose. “Everything that woman does just makes me want to change her ringtone to the Annoying Orange even more. We’ll have the meeting here then. It’s safe ground for all of us, and I don’t think the conservation has had the chance to bug the place yet. Or at least, I hope not. We’ll still have to wait though.”

“I don’t like waiting,” Oliver huffs.

“Then tough luck,” Felicity’s lips quirk in a smile. “You’re going to have to.”

Oliver huffs again, but he backs down, losing his impatient attitude and sinking back into the couch next to Felicity. “Do you think Diggle and Lyla are going to be angry with me?”

“More concerned than angry, I reckon,” Felicity muses, pressing one of her feet into his green leathered calf and frowning. “They most probably knew that you were planning on finding me - wait -” She turns towards him bodily and pokes him in the chest with narrowed eyed. “How did you even know where my apartment is?”

He blinks, frowning. He remembers that feeling of being drawn here, like he was being pulled by a wire towards her. “I don’t know. I guess I just sensed where you were and followed that feeling here.”

A spark flares in Felicity’s eyes. “Does that mean now that we’re mates I get a weird sixth sense of where you are all the time?”

Oliver shrugs. “I don’t know. It might just be because of my species.”

Felicity beams. “I’d love to experiment with that. If you can sense where I am, who’s to say you can’t sense my emotions, my thoughts? I mean, sure, it could be considered a breach of personal privacy, but wouldn’t that be cool? We’d have to set boundaries, but it could be really useful, especially when you’re out in the field.”

The doorbell rings. Oliver winces when Felicity sends him a pointed look, crossing the room within seconds to open the front door. The primal defensive side of him puts Oliver on edge, so he vaults over the couch so he’s standing behind it, and so that it’s an obstacle between him and the newcomer human. It’s just then that he realises that he’s left his bow and quiver at the Foundry - he had been so focused on getting to Felicity that he hadn’t thought about picking them up, and while he had been with her, he hadn’t thought that he would need them. He’s expecting an unimpressed Diggle or a Lyla with raised eyebrows, but instead he gets Detective Lance, to his surprise, glancing up from his cell phone and blinking at Felicity with a soft smile.

“Detective Lance!” Felicity greets him, sounding pleasantly surprised as she steps aside to let him in.

As he slips inside, the detective comments, “Quentin, please, Felicity. I’m off-duty.”

Felicity closes the door behind her. “You’re here for Oliver, I presume.”

“Yeah, Mr Diggle and Ms Michaels had to stay behind at the Foundry to finish setting up shop,” Lance says. He gives Oliver a little awkward wave on spotting him, and Oliver tilts his head slightly in reply. “They also thought we’d get less resistance in trying to get Oliver to come back if I was sent to pick him up.”

A low growl escapes Oliver’s throat, startling both Lance and Felicity as he snarls, “I’m not leaving Felicity.”

Lance raises his hands up slightly to try and placate him, answering in a reassuring voice, “Whoa, there, big guy. Nobody’s going to try and force you to leave Felicity. I never said anything like that. You know that I’m all for you two spending as much time together as you want. I was just send to try and convince you to come back to the Foundry.” He looks between the two of them and questions, “What made you think I was going to get you to leave her?”

Oliver turns to Felicity, and Lance follows his eyes to her, looking confused and a little suspicious now. Felicity bites her lip, blinking at Oliver and he just cocks his head, telling her silently that it’s her call. With a sigh, she motions for Lance to take a seat as she heads into the kitchen to start making tea or hot cocoa, Oliver presumes. He wants to follow her, and he realises now that need to always be near her is because she is and has always been his mate, but Felicity said they needed to tell people slowly, so he takes a seat perching on the armrest of the couch, body angled towards her so he can watch her.

“Price doesn’t like me spending so much time with Oliver,” Felicity explains. “And she tried to turn me into the villain in the scenario, saying that I was keeping him captive and away from his vigilante activities, taking up his time and keeping him on too short a leash.”

“Bullshit,” Lance retorts immediately, snorting, which startles Oliver. “You’re the one human being that he can stand to be around.” He smiles wryly at the archer, continuing, “You’re picky with your choice of friends, but that ain’t necessarily a bad thing, kid.”

“Yes, well. She made it pretty clear that I needed to back off and stay away from Oliver otherwise she would pull him into ‘protective custody’,” Felicity says sarcastically. “There’s also the added plus of Oliver coming into his fertility peak, and they want to stop him from forming any real attachments to humans, in case Oliver chooses one of them as his mate and they ‘taint the pure bellator custos bloodline’.” Felicity’s impression of Price’s voice is so awful that it makes Oliver chuckle. “Whatever, she’s a bitch. We’re getting Oliver out from under her thumb as soon as possible, and if they means destroying the conservation, I’m all for it.”

“I really shouldn’t be saying this as a police officer,” Lance replies. “But I can’t say I don’t agree with you. Seems to me that all Price and her buddies are interested in is the science of it all. They don’t care about Oliver as an individual at all. That’s why he needs you, sweetheart.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Hey, you said his fertility peak… you don’t think Price is gonna try and meddle, do you?” He casts a concerned glance over at Oliver. “She hasn’t done anything to you, right?”

Oliver shoots a quick glance at Felicity, as if checking that it’s okay. He wants to tell Lance about what the conservation did to him with injecting those pregnancy hormones and Laurel’s DNA, but if Felicity doesn’t think it’s wise, he won’t. That said, Felicity doesn’t seem to have anything against it, just giving him a small shrug as she carries three mugs of tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table before returning to fetch a plate that she dumps a packet of biscuits on.

“We just found out they injected me with a mixture of pregnancy hormones,” Oliver tells him flatly, “To try and trigger my self-impregnation. And mixed with the hormones, they put some of Laurel’s DNA.”

Lance spits out the mouthful of tea he just drank, spraying it onto his shirt and some of the floor as he splutters in shock. “ _What?!_ You - you can’t be serious!” He turns to Felicity, still pointing at Oliver as he demands, “Is he serious?”

“Deadly,” Felicity returns, reaching across to take back his mug of tea from him so he doesn’t spill anymore. “Caitlin Snow, Oliver’s personal doctor from the conservation, she tested some of the residue left over from the syringe. Spoke to us about it only ten minutes ago.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Lance mutters.

“Trust me, that’s how we both reacted,” Felicity replies with a sigh.

“And what does that do? I mean, I understand the pregnancy hormones will probably help trigger the self-impregnation thing, but what does Laurel’s DNA do? If it gets inside the baby does it change things fundamentally? It won't hurt the baby, will it?” Before giving Felicity the chance to reply, Lance narrows his eyes. “You’re taking this rather well.”

“Oh, no, I’m furious,” Felicity replies calmly. “Not only are they messing with nature, but they’re also messing with a human being - and don’t say that Oliver isn’t human, because he practically is emotionally, even if he isn’t biologically. I think what we’re mostly interested in at the moment is whether or not Laurel knew what her DNA was being used for.”

Lance’s expression darkens, before he shoots a nervous, worried glance back at Oliver as he questions, “How are you taking this?”

Oliver closes his eyes, just breathing in and out for a few seconds before he manages to speak, saying quietly, “I honestly don’t know how to take this. I’m feeling very conflicted at the moment.” His voice breaks slightly when he whispers, “I thought Laurel was my friend.”

“I know my daughter and trust me, she would not have consented to her DNA being injected into you under any circumstances whatsoever,” Lance says firmly, his fists clenched. “She may hate you because she thinks you’re Oliver Queen, but she wouldn’t go so far as to allow the conservation to violate your body like that.”

Felicity passes Oliver a biscuit and he nibbles on it as she says, “Eitherway, I think we should talk to her about this. If she consented to it, we need to know to break off all communication with her, and if she didn’t, we could have a lawsuit on our hands.” She smirks, uncharacteristically dark. “I don’t think the general public would be happy learning that one of the last members of an endangered species that’s keeping crime down in their city is being forced to impregnate, especially when it’ll force Oliver off of the streets and leave Starling vulnerable to who knows what.”

“Geez, yeah,” Lance realises, sitting back after reaching for his own biscuit. “You’re not going to be able to go around hunting and shooting criminals if you’re pregnant.”

Oliver frowns. Their words are starting to sink in, and it’s leaving him feeling uncomfortable. He doesn’t like the idea of taking time off and leaving his city, his territory, unprotected. “I could probably stay out -”

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupts warningly. “If you get pregnant, and that’s a big if, though not as big now, obviously, it’s a six month long pregnancy. The baby would be developing a lot faster than a normal human baby. You wouldn’t be going out onto the streets past a month pregnant.” There’s a protective, commanding hint to her tone that sends tendrils of thrills rushing through his body. Felicity’s already taking charge as his mate, and he can’t help but smile in response to that idea.

“We’ll debate that,” he tells her.

“And I will win,” she informs him smugly.

“We’ll see about that,” he responds with a smirk.

“Okay, you two crazy kids, that’s enough,” Lance chuckles. “I presume you want to meet Laurel here, considering the Foundry’s all bugged up. I’ll call her, try and get her over here after she finishes work, and if that doesn’t take, we can always ask Tommy for help.” He rises and stretches slightly as he picked up his cell phone again. “I’ll have to call Mr Diggle and Ms Michaels first though, let them know we’re staying here. They’ll want to join us.”

Lance departs briefly, making his way outside to make calls, and Felicity stands to take the plate of biscuits away from Oliver. He makes a squeak of protest, scrambing up to try and follow her as she takes the biscuits back to the kitchen, because he’s just so hungry. However, when he catches her sleeve, she shoots him a powerful glower than he keens under, making a quiet chirp of apology.

“We’ve got to get some real food into you,” Felicity says thoughtfully as she puts the biscuits away. “You haven’t eaten in a long time.” She pulls out various cereal boxes from cupboards and when she sees Oliver’s questioning raised eyebrows, she defends, “I can’t cook, okay? Cereal is the one thing I can’t mess up.”

She pours him a bowl while motioning for him to take a seat at the table. Felicity’s just grabbing the milk out of the fridge when Lance returns, and the face he makes when Felicity offers him a bowl of cereal too is priceless. Oliver cracks a laugh, the first one he thinks in weeks - he can’t remember the last time he laughed and Felicity smiles brightly at him. Lance looks slightly shocked at his laugh, but then he grins too and accepts the bowl of cereal.

The three of them sit there in silence for a few minutes, each eating their own individual bowl of cereal. Oliver isn’t sure what kind of cereal it is, but it’s sweet and there’s little fluffy white things in it. The absurdity of what they’re doing does not pass him, and he continues to chuckle throughout the devouring of the cereal.

When he yawns, Felicity reaches over and rubs her thumb over one of his hands, asking, “You tired? You should probably have a nap, you did have two panic attacks today.”

“I’m not tired,” he protests just as he yawns again.

“Gotta agree with her kid, you do look kinda wiped,” Lance shrugs. “Laurel’s not gonna be here for another four hours or so. You could take a nap.”

Before Oliver can even protest, because he wants to, Felicity is standing and leading him by the hand towards her bedroom again. His heart skips a beat at the idea of sleeping in her den, her nest, once again, but also the expression of her face, of fierce protection and compassion, gives him fuzzy feelings in his chest. When he glances back at Lance, the detective heaves his shoulders up and down again, his lips quirking up in a smile.

He ends up sleeping on the foot of Felicity’s bed with a blanket that smells of Felicity and of some weird flower wrapped around him. Felicity insists he takes a pillow but he tells her he doesn’t need one, instead just curling up like a cat underneath the thin blanket and humming contently when she runs her hand through his hair again.

Before either of them know what’s going on, Felicity leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. He freezes.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she instantly responds, wide-eyed. “I didn’t think, and I know you have your whole humans equal danger thing, that was probably really, really stupid, I shouldn’t have -”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he interrupts. She pauses nervously. He gazes directly into her blue eyes. “It was nice.”

She blushes, biting her lip, and then she rushes out the room with a hurried goodbye, closing the door behind her. A smile grows on his face as he closes his eyes, imagining his mate staying and curling up beside him, radiating heat and their hands woven together.

He dreams of that as well, of the peacefulness of just sleeping beside his mate, lying there and watching her breathing in and out slowly, but as the dream continues, he begins to feel the temperature rising until he’s sweating slightly. It’s becoming uncomfortable when he jerks awake, frowning, hands reaching out for his mate when he finds, disappointingly, that he’s alone. Sitting up and pushing off to stand, he finds himself staggering, vision going strange for a second. But the weird feeling passes, so he stands again on much steadier feet and makes his way out of his mate’s den to go in search for her.

Felicity is standing in the middle of her living room, Lyla, Diggle and Lance seated on the couch behind her and Laurel and Tommy sitting in front of Felicity when he enters. They immediately stop talking about whatever they were talking about when he comes in, and Felicity sends him a strained smile, which makes him think that they were discussing something serious.

“Hey,” she greets him. “You have a nice nap?”

“I don’t feel very well,” he says in response, ever aware that he feels like he’s slightly burning inside and his throat is sore. It’s just kicked in randomly in his sleep and that scares him. He moves his eyes over to Tommy and Laurel and says, “Hi,” to both of them.

Felicity is at his side in seconds, however, pressing a hand to his forehead. It’s a minor annoyance, and he scowls and tries to swat her hand away. She glares and he stops, standing there.

“Hmm, you’re a little warm,” she bites her lip. “Do you feel nauseous?”

He shakes his head, leaning into her hand against his forehead with a small rumbling purr, muttering, “Not really.”

She looks worried but her hand drops. “Maybe it’s just from sleeping. My room does get pretty warm.” She turns back to the group. “We were just discussing what Caitlin told us.”

“Oh,” he responds shortly, glancing between all the humans.

“I didn’t know, Oliver,” Laurel bursts out desperately, seemingly not able to keep quiet anymore as she wrings her hands, looking close to tears. “Honestly, I had no idea - they said that all the people working at the conservation had to have blood tests for safety reasons, just in case we had a virus or illness or something that we could accidentally transfer to you. Please believe me, I had no idea that they were going to use my blood to inject my DNA into you.” She takes a shaky breath. “I know I’ve been acting horrible and mean and cold towards you but that’s because you look like Oliver Queen -”

“ - and Oliver Queen killed your little sister,” Oliver finishes quietly. There’s a beat of silence, then Oliver inclines his head and reassures her, “It’s okay, Laurel.” It’s not really, her DNA is still in his system and that irritates and scares him to no end, but now he knows it’s not her fault and that she didn’t know what her blood was going to be used for, he can’t blame her. He turns towards Diggle and Lyla. “Did you know?” he asks coolly.

The two of them exchange glances.

Anger sparks inside of him. “You did know.”

“We didn’t know, Oliver,” Diggle replies solemnly. “We suspected Price was going to do something stupid, but we never expected _this_. I’m sure you can remember when you first were brought into the conservation, Price said that trying to trigger your self-impregnation would be dangerous and that everything would be hypothetical.”

“We thought she was telling the truth,” Lyla continues, looking extremely guilty. “We didn’t start to suspect she was lying until a few days ago. We overheard her and some high-end strategists and scientists discussing what would happen to the crime rate if you were off-duty for a couple of months.”

“It didn’t even cross our minds that she could have been talking about your pregnancy.” Diggle looks genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, Oliver.”

Oliver nods, accepting the apology. He sways a little in place due to the heat burning through him, and Felicity catches his arm and presses into his side, keeping him still and upright while looking worried. “I’m fine,” he tells her quietly, before raising his voice and stating, “So we’re all against this.”

“We just spent half an hour talking about how furious we all are at the violation of your basic rights, Oliver,” Lance says flatly. “I’m pretty sure everybody in this room is against the conservation forcing you to have a baby.”

“But we’ve also established there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Tommy says, speaking up for the first time since Oliver’s been in the room. He won’t meet Oliver’s eyes exactly, but at least he isn’t totally ignoring him. “They injected those hormones into you and there’s no way we can counteract them. What we can do, however, is sort out the fact that they put Laurel’s DNA in you.” He crosses his arms. “Or at least, that’s what Felicity says.”

“She hasn’t told us how,” Laurel adds.

Oliver turns to Felicity. She gazes back at him helplessly. They both agreed that they would tell the others about Oliver’s choosing of Felicity as his mate slowly, in time. Judging by everybody’s expressions, they’re all ready to give their full support going against the conservation’s wishes, and the idea of lying to them about something so massive, that will change everything concerning his possible pregnancy, is not something Oliver likes the thought of.

“We need to tell them,” he tells her.

“Tell us what?” Diggle questions.

“Now?” Felicity looks unsure.

“We can’t keep it from them,” he replies. “Keeping it a secret from them when they want to help, when they want to support… it’s wrong.”

“Secret?” Tommy pipes up. “Er, what secret is this?”

“We need to make this decision together,” Oliver tells her softly, gazing down at her where she’s still leaning into his side. His eyes are incredibly gentle and he makes sure he puts comfort and reassurance into his voice when he whispers, “We’re a team, Felicity. We’re _partners_.”

She sighs shakily. She doesn’t pull away, but she takes a tiny step sideways so there’s a little more space and she can breathe more freely as she begins telling them, “Caitlin said one of the best things to ensure that Laurel’s DNA is destroyed in Oliver’s body and there’s no chance of it implanting in the baby, is to make sure there’s more genetically compatible DNA in Oliver’s body instead.”

“Genetically compatible... you mean, like, DNA from his species,” Tommy says.

“That’s one option, yes,” Felicity answers cautiously.

“And… the other option?” Lyla prompts.

Felicity swallows. “DNA from Oliver’s chosen mate.” With that, she huddles in closer to Oliver and he squeezes her hand supportively.

Tommy nods in response, not taking the hint. “Oh yeah, I remember reading something about that, Oliver’s species takes a mate. His body will choose somebody with DNA that’s genetically compatible with his so they have the best chance of having a baby by sexual reproduction. The asexual reproduction, self-impregnation thing, that’s a back-up. And they become life partners, right?”

“Yeah,” Felicity agrees nervously.

“So we obviously have to find Oliver a mate,” Tommy concludes.

Oliver goes completely still, staring at Tommy. When he eventually turns to look at Felicity, at his already chosen mate, she’s gaping wordlessly, not knowing what to say. Everybody else in the room except Tommy all seem to rear back in realisation once they see Oliver and Felicity glance at each other, catching on to whatever suggestion Felicity made, some of them making shocked noises.

“I don’t think we have to, Tommy,” Lance butts in, when Tommy looks like he’s going to go on. When the young Merlyn shoots him a look, Lance finishes, “I think Oliver and Felicity already sorted out that issue.”

Felicity blushes again to the tips of her eyes, determindedly looking down at the floor. Oliver shifts uncomfortably under the humans’ scrutiny and the arm that was holding Felicity’s hand before begins to wrap around her waist protectively.

Tommy blinks between them for a few seconds, mouth dropping open slightly. “Well that makes a hell of a lot of sense,” he finally says.

Surprised, Felicity questions, “It does?”

“It explains why he’s always choosing you over everybody else,” Diggle says. “And it explains why he’s always so attached to you."

"You guys aren't going to tell Price... right?" Felicity questions, twisting her hand in Oliver's, biting her lip as a nervous tremor makes its way through her body. "I mean, because that would be... that would be bad. She would try to take Oliver away and... I know I can't stand the thought of that, and I don't know about you guys, but -"

"Felicity," Diggle cuts in. He glances around at everybody before turning back to her and telling her seriously, "Nobody here is going to say anything to Price. We all massively disagree with her decision to trigger Oliver's self-impregnation and we're all outraged that she put Laurel's DNA into Oliver's body without his consent and without hers. And I'm pretty sure everybody here can agree that you're the best person for Oliver to choose as his mate. He's already developed a relationship with you, and it would be stupid to ignore that."

Lyla adds cheekily, "And he says your name like you’re his goddess to be worshipped.”

“I don’t do that -”

“Yeah, you do,” everybody else in the room choruses.

Oliver’s about to protest when that heat flushes through him again, this time mroe powerfully. His knees buckle as he breaks out into a heavy sweat, spots appearing in his vision. Felicity cries out his name and tries to get underneath his arm to hold him up, but instead he ends up dragging her down with him, so she’s lying on top of him. She doesn’t seem to notice their awkward position, however, because she’s too busy checking his temperature with her hand. He moans, because it’s cold and it stings like hell.

“He’s really hot,” Felicity says concernedly as Diggle, Lyla and Lance rush over to kneel beside him, Laurel and Tommy hanging back to give them enough space.

“Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said earlier about not feeling well, huh,” Tommy tries, at a horrific attempt at humour. 

“No shit Sherlock!” Felicity snaps at him furiously, spitting out next, “Go and grab some ice or something, if you’re going to hang about you can make yourself useful!”

Oliver hears Lance murmur, “ _Whoa,_ ” and Diggle muttering, “ _Damn girl._ ” Her protective instinct to care for her mate is already kicking in, he realises. Her biology is already starting to tune to his, and this is one response due to that. Tommy scuttles to the kitchen with his tail between his legs, looking a little frightened, and Laurel follows behind him so they can start making a cold compress.

“Felicity,” Oliver slurs, raising one arm out to her hazy figure as the intensified heat flares through his fingertips. “Don’t - don’t feel well.”

“I know, honey, I know,” she soothes immediately, instinctively, clutching his hand with one of hers while the others makes its way through his sweat-soaked hair. Her velvet voice makes Oliver want to purr back in response, and he manages it weakly, that prompts a smile from all the humans around him. The little term of endearment is new as well, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. Whoever knew he would be letting humans, his greatest threat, call him cute nicknames?

“I’m tired,” he tells her, closing his eyes.

“No, don’t fall asleep, Oliver,” she protests, panic in her voice. “Stay awake a little longer, honey, okay?”

“But I’m really tired and I wanna _sleep_ …”

“You can sleep in a minute, we just need to take your temperature.”

“Fe-li-ci-tyyy,” he whines. Something’s put against his forehead and he could open his eyes to take a look at it, but he doesn’t want to, so instead he tries to swipe at it. Felicity’s small hands stops him and she makes a noise that sounds like ‘No’. “What is that?”

“It’s a thermometer, Oliver, it takes your temperature,” Diggle replies patiently. “Yep, he’s got a fever. 101. Not too bad at the moment. Some ice and cold compresses should lower it down.”

“Why would he be ill though?” Felicity frets above him, although her voice is fading in and out slightly as his head gets heavier. “You don’t think it was the injections, do you? I should call Caitlin.”

“You said earlier that Oliver’s body would react to Laurel’s DNA like it was a virus,” somebody says. The heat has taken over his mind so much now that he can’t put names to voices, and the humans above him are blurry figures now. Panic strikes him as _humans=danger_ kicks in, but he tries to tell himself repeatedly that these are his friends and that they are not going to hurt him. “Maybe this is his body responding to the DNA.”

“His body’s raising his core temperature to try and destroy Laurel’s DNA!” another human shouts. “It’s his body’s primary defense mechanism!”

“Stop yelling!” he groans. “ _Felicityyyyy…_ ”

“I’m here,” she tells him calmly. At least he can still recognise her voice. And her scent, which is washing over him in soothing waves. “You can sleep now, Oliver. You can sleep. Rest, honey, I’m right here.”

With his mate’s approval and permission, he relaxes and finally falls back into the blissful, quiet darkness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment or leave kudos :) Feel free to ask any questions!!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	16. The Affliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has his first proper flashback. Caitlin, Felicity and Tommy discuss his biology. Oliver and Felicity begin to bond more as mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... hi... I'm back? With this. Hope you enjoy... this chapter...
> 
> *throws chapter and scuttles away*
> 
> No, in all serious, thank you to everybody out there who offered me support and motivation to write. I've been really busy lately and I've had quite a few other WIP fics going on - why tf I started them when I had this going, I don't know... - but all the amazing messages and awesome comments made me really want to deliver so here's a chapter. My sincere thanks for all the appreciation. I love you guys. *hugs*
> 
> There probably won't be another one for a while.
> 
> So here's a game. Inspire me to write quickly. In the comments:  
> \- send me a headcanon you have for the fic  
> \- send me your best theory and I'll respond with five words.  
> \- tell me who your favourite character is in the fic and why  
> \- tell me how you'd like Price to die. :)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_“Alright, his heart rate’s settled again. Give Subject 141 another injection.”_

_The needle stung as it was pushed into his arm again and he whimpers as fire burst through his veins. Yet he could do nothing but endure the pain, his entire body feeling like it was being torn apart. He didn’t know how long it took for the flames in his blood to burn out, but even when the pain started to fade, he couldn’t think._

_“Another.”_

_There was a pause, but then through the slit of his eyes he could see a hand come down to hold the wrist of the hand about to give him another injection. “Wait. His vitals are dangerously low. It would kill him to give him another one considering the amount of stress on his body at the moment.”_

_“Well, he lasted longer than all the others did. Eight injections. Impressive.” The fierce human towering above him clapped his hands, and the sound slammed into his ears, shocking him. “Alright. That’s the end of today’s procedure. Let him rest.”_

_“We should take some blood first. His DNA must be changing by now.”_

_“It took thirty seven injections to even begin to change Subject 12’s DNA. And if we want to reach thirty-seven with him, he needs to survive. We’ve already killed over forty subjects by being impatient. We need to give Subject 141 time to recover.” There was a pause. “Hmm. Put him in with the problematic three. Let’s see what they make of him.”_

_He could barely make a weak noise as he was lifted off of the table and turned onto a stretcher to be carried out of the piercing white operation room. His whole body was numb from the agony he had just endured, and due to the paralytic they had given him, he couldn’t move a muscle. The paralytic hadn’t knocked him out throughout their four hour procedure on him. It meant that he could feel, hear, and sense everything around him. He gazed up at the ceiling with haunted, empty eyes, taking one shuddering breath after another._

_He couldn’t remember how long he had been trapped in the complex - he remembered his capture like it was only days ago; they had snatched him up from the shores of Lian Yu and chained him in a cage so tiny he was crouched in it, barely able to lift his head. They hadn’t started the injections until a few days ago. Each one felt like fire coursing through his veins, and he had heard the scientists and doctors saying that the pain tolerance of each patient had to be accounted for._

_After a year of torture on the island, Oliver had a very high pain tolerance. That, unfortunately, only meant he had to endure the horrific pain for longer, as his body could take the stress._

_He expected to be shoved back into his cage like he usually was after the procedures, with only a small amount of water and a thin scratchy blanket to accompany him, but he didn’t recognise this corridor. They were taking him somewhere else._

_Very unceremoniously, he was dumped onto the cold floor. The sound of some kind of gate, probably a prison door, echoed throughout the cell, and as he curled up with a pained whimper to try and retain some heat, he managed to take in some of the surroundings. It was a large cell, a very large cell, encased in darkness, as there were no lights. There were some scrappy blankets lying by the walls and some crumpled, empty bottles of water. It looked like other people were being held there._

_His heart skipped a beat - others, they had said others. They had said ‘problematic three’. Were these the others they were also being put through the procedure?_

_“Oh shit,” he heard somebody mutter from the back of the room. It was a male voice, low and gruff, with an accent of some kind that he couldn’t put a name to. “It’s a new one.”_

_“Do you think that means -” a soft female voice said, before pausing and continuing in a whisper, “If they started the procedure on a new one that probably means that Billy is dead, right? He died from the injections?” No answer, and the female prompted, “Slade?”_

_“I don’t know.” The same male voice form before answered. “We should check he’s not dead. I’m not going through being forced to live with a dead body in the same room with me for two days again.”_

_“Slade!” a new female voice snapped, another accent tangible. “You should not refer to Anatoly like that. He was our friend.”_

_“He was a Russian dick. And a blanket hogger. If he’s gone, it means we get to be warmer. Shado, you got the candle from before?”_

_There was a faint scramble and then the female, Shado, replied, “I cannot find the matches.’_

_“I’ve gott’em,” the other female said sheepishly. “Put them on the ledge for safe keeping, since Slade kept on sitting on them and snapping them with his huge ass.”_

_“Excuse me, little miss,” the man, Slade, responded, sounding affronted. “I’m not the one who kept on accidentally knocking over the piss bucket and soaking them with urine.”_

_“That was one time, Slade!”_

_“Both of you, be quiet. Now is not the time for your childish arguments.”_

_A flickering flame burst into existence on the end of a match, and soon the cell was basked in a steady glow. He groaned and turned his head away, the light hurting his eyes, and he tried to curl up tighter but it sent pain stomping on all his nerves._

_“Guess he’s alive,” ‘Slade’ said. “Looks pretty young. They like the young ones. He’s got to be somewhere in his mid twenties.”_

_“Wonder where he got picked up from.”_

_He was kicked gently in the side by ‘Slade’. “Hey, kid. You okay? Those bloody injections are hell, I know. But the pain fades after a while.”_

_“If it’s any reassurance,” the accented female, ‘Shado’, said, “If they brought you here, they’re giving you a rest for a few days. You can recover. We have water and blankets.”_

_“If Slade’ll share them with you,” the other woman, still unidentified, muttered._

_“You’re one to talk!”_

_“Hush, the two of you! He is probably scared and in pain, and the two of you bickering is not going to help him feel any better. I imagine you have a lot of questions.”_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and he ended up coughing for a few seconds, sending more pain wracking through his form so the last cough concluded with a low moan. “... where is this?” he managed to choke out. “And what the fuck is going on?”_

_There was a beat of silence, and then a disbelieving voice exclaimed in fright and horror, “OLLIE?”_

_Heaving himself up into a sitting position, his eyes widened as he took in the woman now approaching him from the darker, shadowed side of the room, coming into focus as the light from the candle fell over her, highlighting dirty blonde hair and tear filled eyes._

_“Oh my god. Sara?”_

* * *

“Oliver, wake up. Oliverrrrr. Wake up!”

He startles into consciousness, hands gripping the sheets underneath him like vices. It takes him a few seconds to realise where he is: in Felicity’s nest, soaked in sweat with heat simmering under his skin. His heart is thrumming in his chest and he takes panting breaths. The memories, the dream, is fading slightly now, falling into the back of his mind, but he can still recall certain parts of it.

His eyes widen. _Sara._ Detective Lance’s daughter. Laurel’s little sister. The girl who Oliver Queen had run off with on the Queen’s Gambit and cheated on Laurel with. He’s starting to remember. He can’t remember much - but now he can put a face to a name. And he knows now - _she was there at that place with those people with him_. 

And that could only mean one thing.

Sara Lance was also made into a _homo bellator custos._

“Oliver? You okay?” It’s definitely Felicity. He squints to try and look at her, except his eyesight is still unfocused, the heat making it hard to concentrate. A hand is placed on his forehead and he whines, low and long, leaning into its coolness. “Oh god, you’re burning up again. Caitlin! CAITLIN!”

He can’t tell anybody. He can’t tell anybody about the flashback he just experienced. He needs to understand it first, before he can tell anybody, and he needs to know more, remember more. He doesn’t want to give Laurel or Detective Lance or really anybody false hope. For all he knows, Sara’s dead. For all he knows, Sara didn’t survive the process with the injections to become a Bellator. He needs to know for sure before he tells anybody about what he’s just seen.

The door of the room swings open with a creak that hurts his eyes and he whines again. There are arms wrapped around him, he realises, Felicity’s arms. His mate must be lying down next to him in her nest and he thinks his heart skips a beat at the thought of them sharing a bed and sleeping next to each other, her keeping bodily contact with him to comfort him as much as she can. Except then, another hand, this one colder and more clinical, is pressed to his forehead and then that hand pulls the warmth of his mate’s arms away from around his waist, forcing a groan of annoyance from his lips.

“Step back, Felicity, I need to take his temperature and check his vitals.”

“F’liss’tyy,” he slurs, blinking heavily and throwing his head to the side to try and see where his mate has retreated to.

“I’m right here, Oliver. Caitlin just needs to check you over,” Felicity’s voice reassures him, quiet and soothing. “You’ve been practically unconscious for three days, and when you were awake, you were pretty much delirious.” He whines in protest when Caitlin’s hand touches him again. “Please, Oliver, you need medical help and Caitlin can help you.”

“Yes, you’ve been very sick, Oliver,” Caitlin tells him calmly. “We thought at first that your body was just rejecting Laurel’s DNA, but it soon became clear to me that it was something else as well. It’s very important that you rest and do exactly what I say over the next few days to make sure you get better, okay?”

“...’kay,” he croaks.

“Right, your temperature is at 103.4 Fahrenheit,” Caitlin continues. “And that’s bad. Do you feel hot or cold at the moment, Oliver?”

“... Hot.”

“That’s good. It means that your homeostasis isn’t as screwed up as I thought it would be. Hurray for Bellator physiology, I guess.” She turns away from him, he judges by the change in amplitude of her voice, to speak to Felicity. “Stick your head out the door and ask Tommy to grab some ice packs, would you? And ask Cisco to grab the equipment for an IV whilst you’re at it, we need to keep Oliver hydrated.”

He can blearily see Felicity stand from where she was crouching over him from the side of the made to make for the door, and his heartbeat kicks up immediately. She can’t leave. He doesn’t want his mate to leave him. He tries to cry out a protest but it gets stuck in his throat, and he just ends out lashing out with one arm, feebly trying to break away from Caitlin’s grasp.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Caitlin reassures him. “Felicity’s not going anywhere. She’s not going to leave the room.”

“They’ll be a few minutes,” Felicity tells Caitlin as she returns, this time moving over to the other side of the bed and slipping onto it, shuffling over and lying down next to Oliver so that their hips are bumping. A purr bursts from his chest as she slides one of her hands into his, but the sound causes pain to flare up due to the tendrils of heat it creates in his lungs, so it tapers off with a growl.

“F’liss’tyy,” he repeats, closing his eyes and leaning onto her arm. “S’really hot…”

“I know, honey, I know,” she empathises. “Tommy’s going to bring some ice into cool you down.”

Caitlin’s hand is placed onto his chest then, spread out over his pectoral muscles and he instantly startles, _humans=danger_ blaring loudly inside of his head so that he flinches away from the touch and a weak snarl escapes his lips. When the hand doesn’t move, he tries to raise his hand to swipe at it, but Felicity catches it and squeezes it.

“Caitlin’s just checking your depth of breathing,” she tells him. “She’s not going to hurt you, Oliver, I promise. I’m right here, and I would never let anybody hurt you.”

The door opens again, colliding with the wall behind it with a bang that makes Oliver jump, startled. A strange warbling sound makes its way out of his mouth as he clutches with sweaty hand onto Felicity’s shirt and buries his head into her arm as Caitlin snaps sharply at the intruder to be quiet and close the door carefully.

“Hey, buddy.” He peeks up, blinking and he catches sight of Tommy standing at the end of the bed with a tight smile, looking somewhat worried. “How’re you feeling?” He pauses, frowning and muttering apologetically, “Right, probably crap. Sorry ‘bout that. I got some ice.” He hands it over to Caitlin who begins placing the ice packs over his chest, despite his whines and wiggles to try and escape the numbing coldness. It’s soothing, yes, as it stops the heat, but it’s uncomfortable. “Cisco’s coming up with the IV, Caitlin.”

“Good,” Caitlin replies with a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Tommy.” It’s a clear dismissal, Oliver can tell by her tone of voice, but Tommy doesn’t take the cue and leave. Instead he settles down on the edge of the end of the bed by Felicity’s feet, not looking anybody in the eyes but wanting to stay there for some reason. “Was there something you needed?”

“I actually wanted to ask you a question,” Tommy asked stiffly. “It’s about Oliver’s biology.”

Caitlin looks confused but agrees, “Okay, go ahead.”

“So the conservation wants Oliver to have a baby asexually, right, to keep the bloodline pure Bellator and not taint it by making it half human. But if they’re injecting Laurel’s DNA into him for the baby to absorb, won’t that taint it? Like, make it mostly pure Bellator, but a tiny bit human?”

Caitlin looks somewhat impressed. Oliver purrs again as Felicity starts threading one hand through his sweaty hair, but he’s interested in what Caitlin has to say, because this has been confusing him too.

“It’s complicated,” Caitlin responds. “The only way I think I could possibly explain it is by getting into the biology of it all, if you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” Tommy replies dryly. “I mean, I got a B in high school biology, so I should be able to understand a little.”

“Okay, well, essentially, all DNA is universal. It's just coding. You can really easily transfer it. It's why you can so easily create transgenic plants and animals in real life, because you can insert a spider gene into a goat really easily without it having any bad side effects,” Caitlin explains. “When foreign DNA enters our bloodstream, it's fine, because it's universal. It's generally accepted by the rest of our DNA and just fades into the background, because it's simply just coded amino acids and proteins.”

“So it wouldn’t make any impact on the baby’s DNA?” Tommy deduces.

“Right. Any DNA that's put into Oliver's system will not fundamentally change the DNA of the baby. It would still be a pure Bellator - it would just have some human DNA attached a little on the end, which won't affect it.”

Tommy nods, catching on. “Because it’s just base coding.”

“Sorry to butt in here,” Felicity pipes up. “But if DNA is just accepted so easily due to it being universal, then why is Oliver’s body reacting like this? I mean, shouldn’t his body just have… accepted it? That’s what you said would happen.”

“With the DNA, yes,” Caitlin agrees. “But it wasn’t just DNA that was put into Oliver’s system. You need a vector for it. Price injected Laurel's DNA into Oliver in the form of white blood cells.”

There was a pause and Tommy prompts, “And that’s different?”

“White blood cells have antigens on them, which are really just spikey things on the outside. The white blood cells are registered as hostile foreign entities, because of the antigens that are present. Oliver's body will fight to kill the white blood cells, which is why his body is having such a reaction to it.”

“So he's raising his core temperature to kill the white blood cells,” Felicity finishes. “But the DNA could survive and still get implanted into the fetus.”

“Alright, I understand that,” Tommy says. “But why Laurel’s DNA? I mean, why not Felicity’s? Why not even yours?”

“Actually, I kind of want to know the answer to that as well,” Felicity adds.

Caitlin shrugs. “I think it must be Price’s personal preference. She doesn’t like Felicity.”

“As I am well aware,” the blonde mutters.

“Also, I think Laurel came off as a lot more easy to manipulate than Felicity,” Caitlin continues, but hurries to add, because Tommy looks furious, “And I don’t mean that in an insulting way, however it came across. But since Oliver was discovered by the conservation, Laurel’s always been a lot more compliant and listened to what Price says, does what she wants. You have to remember, she willingly offered up information about Oliver to the conservation, so Price probably thinks she has more power over her, so using her blood gives her more power over Oliver.”

“And she wouldn’t have that power over him if she used Felicity’s,” Tommy realises. “Right, okay, I get it now.”

“ _IV MAN COMING THROUGH_.” The door flings open again. Oliver immediately tries to hide behind Felicity’s arm, and she rests one hand on his side and scoots up so she’s leaning back against the headboard. “Caitlin, I got the - oh, you have serious face on. Did I interrupt something?”

“Cisco,” Caitlin sighs exasperatedly. She pauses pointedly and then says, “This is Oliver. Oliver, this is Cisco. You’ve already met over the phone.”

Oliver slowly comes from where he’s hiding behind his mate and raises a shaky hand to try and wipe sweat out of his eyes. Felicity instantly responds to his needs and grabs a damp washcloth to gently run over his face, removing the sweat, before setting it down and cuddling up to him again with a soft hum of reassurance.

“Hi, Oliver.” Cisco’s beaming, giving a little wave. He’s wearing a brightly coloured t-shirt that makes Oliver want to squint because it hurts his already aching eyes. “Can I just say, your arrow craftsmanship is incredible, really really stunning, top notch, I’ve got to say. Ha, get it, top notch? Because you -”

“Cisco,” Caitlin hisses.

“Right, uh, yeah, just wanted to say I’m a really big fan of the way you beat up criminals and shoot arrows into evil people,” Cisco grins. He raises his hands, revealing an IV bag and line. “We’re gonna get some fluids into you.”

Caitlin sets the IV up quickly, slapping his hand away with a disapproving glare when he moves to scratch at the needle under his skin, taping down the thin tube to his arm. Oliver’s forced to lie on his back, not on his side, so the line doesn’t get tangled, but he’s still allowed to be next to his mate, so he doesn’t care all that much. Tommy, Felicity, Cisco and Caitlin talk in hushed voices while he closes his eyes and rests for a few minutes, letting Caitlin work on managing the IV drip and checking his vitals again.

“Thank you, Cisco,” Caitlin says pointedly, after everything is finished.

“Right, yeah, I’ve gotta head back to STAR Labs,” Cisco nods, picking up on the dismissal and looking awkward now. “But, uh, Caitlin, Director Price was calling your cell earlier and I didn’t want to pick up because… well, you know why, she hates me, but, uh… she left a voice mail.” He fishes said cell phone out of his pocket and hands it over before giving an enthusiastic wave and departing, closing the door behind him.

Caitlin puts the cell phone aside immediately.

“Aren’t you going to listen to the voicemail?” Tommy questions her, his eyes darting over to the phone.

“I’m not listening to anything that woman has to say at the moment,” Caitlin answers, his voice brisk and sharp. “And if she thinks that it’s okay for her to brutally violate a creature’s body like she did to Oliver, I don’t think I’ll be listening to anything she has to say ever again.” She sits down at the end of the bed. “I wanted to bring something up with both of you. Every day, I’m becoming less and less comfortable with the idea of that tracker in Oliver’s spine.” She inhaled before announcing, “I want to arrange surgery to remove it as soon as possible.”

Felicity looks shocked. “Cait… you could lose your job, you could be arrested -”

“I know,” Caitlin sighs. “But I can’t sit back and allow the conversation to treat Oliver like a wild, dumb animal when I know he’s the complete opposite of that. He deserves his own freedom, and that tracker is restricting that. As soon as he’s healthy, I want to arrange a secret surgery to cut it out.”

“But what then?” Tommy butts in, crossing his arms. “If you take the tracker out, Price will find out. They’ll hunt him down to put another one in him. And you literally said it’s in his spine, wouldn’t that kind of surgery be dangerous?”

“It would be,” Caitlin admits. “But the conservation surgeons put it in - I should be able to get it out. What happens after I get it out would be more complicated.” She closes her eyes as she tells Oliver lowly, “You won’t be able to stay in Starling, Oliver. You’d have to leave, and try to lay low for a while.”

“Shouldn’t he be making that sort of decision?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy…” Felicity sighs.

“No, if it’s going to drastically change Oliver’s life like you just said, he should get to decide whether or not he wants that surgery -”

“Wann’it out,” Oliver croaks, lifting his head weakly to blink exhaustedly at Tommy. The human frowns down at him as he shudders, moving closer to his mate and snuggling into her body heat. “If you can’ge’ddit out, wann’it out.”

“You need to get better first,” Caitlin says softly, gently placing one hand on Oliver’s blanket-covered leg, seeming relieved that he doesn’t flinch away. “We’ll discuss it when you’re better. She swiftly changes the subject, asking him softly, “How do you feel Oliver? Is the ice working?”

“S’not’s hot as’fore,” he replies, still slightly slurred, but his head is a lot clearer, the heat having faded a little. There are actually a few sharp stings over his body where he can feel the icy coldness penetrating into his core. “So… better.”

“Alright,” Caitlin nods. “Your temperature seems to be decreasing, so I think it would be best to leave you to rest for a while.” She gathers her belongings and doctors equipment leisurely, purposely not watching Oliver arch his head into Felicity’s touch with a purr, which he appreciates. He doesn’t want any other humans intruding on them. “Come on, Tommy.”

Tommy bristles defensively. “What, so Felicity gets to stay and I don’t?”

“Felicity’s his mate,” Caitlin explains, but with a warning tone lilting her voice. “And from what I understand from studying them together, and from what I’ve learnt over past few days Oliver’s been ill, Felicity releases pheromones that calm Oliver down and make him feel safe.”

Tommy looks partly disgusted and partly confused by that. “I didn’t think humans could do that.”

“They can’t,” Caitlin returns pointedly. “But Felicity’s biology is changing. Now Oliver and Felicity have excepted each other as mates mentally, they’re starting to physically as well, and their bodies are beginning to tune to each other’s needs.” She takes hold of Tommy’s arm and turns him around, pushing him towards the door. “Which is why it would be better for them to be alone right now.”

Tommy ducks out of Caitlin’s grasp and raises a finger, ignoring her glare and Felicity’s unhappy glower. “One last question.”

“I can answer it outside,” Caitlin emphasises, shooting Oliver a worried glance. He’s beginning to tire and he doesn’t want to have to interact with anybody anymore, he just wants to curl up with his mate and rest.

“But it concerns both Oliver and Felicity,” Tommy argues. “And I think it’s pretty important they know the answer too. It’s about something you said the other day.”

Caitlin rolls her eyes, muttering, “Give me strength,” underneath her breath before she sighs, giving in and throwing up her hands. “Alright, fine.”

“Okay, so you said that Oliver’s species choosing a mate for sexual reproduction,” Tommy counts his points off on his fingers. “And also that the asexual reproduction is basically a back up. So now that Oliver and Felicity are mates -” He waves his hand between the two of them. “ - does that mean instinctually his body is going to go back to that primary sexual reproduction? Is Oliver going to want to be with Felicity - intimately?”

Felicity has blushed bright red, looking appalled and mortified as she whispers, horrified, “Tommy, what the hell!?”

“It’s a genuine question,” he answers her grimly. “I mean, we don’t know anything about Bellator’s sexual behaviour or mating behaviour, and I’m seriously concerned that you could get hurt in all this - you’re my friend, ‘Lis, I can’t just stand back and do nothing as you’re potentially put in danger.”

“Oliver would never hurt me,” she replies back firmly, wrapping her arms around him. Oliver relaxes more into her touch instantly, tucking his head under her chin and purring deeply.

“I can’t answer that, Tommy,” Caitlin says honestly. “Because I don’t know the answer. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I’m not comfortable with that.”

“You’ll have to be,” Felicity replies. “Could Oliver and I please be alone now? Please?”

“Of course,” Caitlin responds immediately taking hold of Tommy’s arms tightly and looking prepared to drag him out of the bedroom if she has to. “We’ll leave you two. Just yell for me if Oliver starts feeling worse or his temperature rises, I’ll be right outside.”

The door shuts as soon as the two humans vacate the room, bathing Oliver and Felicity in cool darkness. Felicity shifts closer so that he’s basically pressed up against her entirely, cradled against her chest and Oliver purrs again, nuzzling into her hair and inhaling her scent. Reaching up to cup her hand at the back of her neck, Felicity sighs, obviously feeling the heat radiating off him due to his fever. He chuffs unhappily as she draws back.

“Okay, mister, shirt off,” she orders. His heart skips a beat in his chest. “You need to cool down and those layers are not helping.”

She holds his icepacks as he struggles to take his thin, sweat-soaked t-shirt off. Eventually she gives in and helps him get it over his head. Pushing him back down onto the bed, Felicity climbs out briefly to clamber back in behind him, pressing up against his bare back and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on one of his shoulders. Minutes later, Oliver already feels a lot calmer, breathing deeper and feeling relaxed enough to maybe fall back to sleep again.

“You know, we’re spooning,” Felicity mumbles into his shoulder.

“Wha’s spooning?” He whispers, voice hoarse.

“Type of cuddling,” she replies. “Don’t worry about it. God, if Tommy or Laurel sees us, they'll never let us live it down... Are you tired? If you’re not, we can stay up and talk. Caitlin just wants you lying down and resting for the moment.”

He is tired, but he much prefers the idea of staying up and speaking to her for while, so he answers, “I’m not tired.”

A beat passes and then Felicity sighs and says, “Yes, you are, don’t lie to me, Oliver.”

“I’m not,” he denies.

“I can tell you’re lying.” Felicity draws away slightly, breaking the contact between her front and his back. He panics, trying to swing his head back to search for her, heart beat kicking up as a tremor runs through him. Instantly, that contact returns. “Sorry, sorry, I’m still here, I’m here. I’m not leaving. Just don’t lie to me, Oliver. You’re a rubbish liar.”

“Only with you,” he mumbles, relaxing under her touch and allowing another rumbling purr to burst out of his chest, which causes Felicity to chuckle quietly. “How’d y’know though?”

Felicity’s hand slips upwards to rub across his side soothingly, making him purr deeper. “Your muscles tense up here. So I know you’re lying about being tired. But I presume you want to stay up and talk, if you’re even trying to lie.”

“Mmm hmm,” he responds, trying to tip his head back so their heads brush, his eyes closed. “What did’a miss?”

“Not much,” Felicity tells him quietly. “Detective Lance and Laurel have been going to work, Tommy’s been nipping in and out. Caitlin’s mostly been here the entire time, Cisco’s been covering for her at STAR Labs. I took some sick days so I could stay here. My supervisor wasn’t very happy at that, but then Detective Lance and Caitlin talked to him, so now I don’t have to go into the office for the next week, as long as I get some work done at home.”

“You’were scary earlier,” Oliver notes, amused at the memory of Felicity snapping at Tommy. “You yelled at Tommy, betcha he was ‘fraid.”

Felicity sounds sheepish as she agrees, “Yeah, I think we was. I think I’ve scared a lot of people over the last few days, Oliver. I’ve been really worried about you.”

“Bet you coul’scare Price,” he mutters, unable to hold in his yawn, grimacing.

Felicity laughs softly, resting her chin on his shoulder and her breath tingling his neck, sending shivers throughout his whole body. “No, don’t think so.”

“She’s gonna be mad.” Oliver’s voice cracks, his sudden fear of the female lead conservationist rearing its head and making him start shaking not from his illness but now from agitation. “When she finds out imma rejectin’ Laurel’s DNA, she’s gonna be mad.”

“She can’t be mad at you,” Felicity responds, tightening her arms around him and cuddling him, her voice fiercely protective once again. “She can’t blame you for your something that’s out of your control, and your biology is not something you can control, Oliver.”

A warm wave of comfort washes over the Bellator and he tries to turn, wanting to bury his head under her chin again to inhale her calming scent. Felicity allows him to easily, embracing him and even raising her head so he can nuzzle under her chin by her neck. As if by instinct, Felicity responds to his deep purring with her own soft noises, running a hand through his hair.

“I think you really need to sleep, hun,” she says sympathetically when he yawns again. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t rest.”

“Feel better already,” he protests, although that burning heat is still present and he doesn’t really feel any better at all.

“Nope, lying again,” Felicity shakes her head. “I’ll be right here beside you the whole time. You need to get some sleep.”

He sighs but gives him with a humph, that Felicity imitates back to him mockingly, a smile playing on her lips. She draws the blanket over their half-entwined bodies, Oliver making sure he’s wound around her as much as possible, refusing to release her. They lie in silence, waiting to sleep to wash over the Bellator while Felicity runs her hand up and down his sides soothingly and strokes her other hand through his hair. Oliver thinks he’s just about to drift off when a loud bang shocks him from his sleep, making him jump upwards and accidentally knock Felicity’s chin upwards with the top of his head.

There’s a knock on the bedroom door, but before Felicity can call out for them to come in, the door opens and a slightly panicked, flustered looking Detective Lance appears.

“You both awake?” Oliver turns over to face him, frowning tiredly. “Good. Look, we have a problem. A massive, _massive_ problem.”

“It’s Price,” Lance replies, and Oliver twitches nervously. “She’s coming over.”

“Why?” Felicity asks flatly.

Lance shakes his head. “Felicity, we don’t know what to do. Price, she’s - she’s bringing over more vaccinations.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos or comment, and feel free to ask me questions.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	17. The Extraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has had enough of Oliver being a captive, and a test subject. We raise the stakes as a plan is made and conducted.
> 
>   _LAST TIME: Oliver is still ill, a side effect of the vaccinations the conservation has given him. He is staying with Felicity, now accepted as his mate, at her apartment. They have just been told by Lance that Price is coming to give him more vaccinations._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd we're back. After so long. Sorry it's taken so long to update. Exams, however, are officially done. I can write freely all summer. :) Here is an extra long chapter to say thank you for all of your support and love over the semi hiatus since I last updated!
> 
> Once again, thanks for the support, very much appreciate it! All of your lovely comments (and about how much you want Price dead) really cheer me up :)
> 
> **WARNING:** This chapter has a lot of swearing. Because it's Slade. And stuck in the situation he is, I imagine him swearing... a lot.
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING:** This chapter involves the purposeful breaking of a bone. If this is a trigger for you, please don't read. Your wellbeing is more important.
> 
> Note - Remember, italics text is a flashback :)

* * *

“We’re getting out of here,” Felicity replies immediately, her voice low and trembling with anger. “We’re getting out of here _right now_.”

Lance shakes his head helplessly, crossing his arms awkwardly as he realises the somewhat compromising position he has caught Felicity and Oliver in - cuddling together in her bed, with the Bellator half naked and topless. “They have the tracker on him - we can't do anything, Felicity. If we run? They’ll follow. Price won't let us -”

Felicity's fury explodes outwards, and with her eyes blazing, she spits out, “That bitch can die for all I care. I am not letting that… that _Umbridge_ give Oliver more vaccinations. He’s practically dying because of them as it is, does she seriously thinking that giving him more of those things is going to help him get better?”

Oliver breaks into her rant with a snarl, and although it’s weak because of his sickness, it's still just as fierce and threatening. Felicity and Lance lapse into silence, Felicity forcing herself to sit up so she can gently rest one hand on the Bellator’s shoulder for support.

“I'm not having any more vaccinations,” he tells them both firmly, blinking blearily at the detective and pressing back into Felicity’s front so her chin props up on his shoulder. “So we can either stay and face Price or we can leave.” He pauses. “I'd prefer to leave.”

“I have to agree with you, Oliver,” Caitlin says, announcing her arrival into the room as she appears in the doorway just behind Lance. The detective moves into the space inside Felicity’s den, making Oliver want to growl warningly at the human threatening his mate’s territory, but tendrils of sick heat whip through his chest, reminding him that he’s not in any sort of shape to fight a territory dispute. “There is absolutely no way, as your doctor, that I can condone Price giving Oliver more vaccinations, not when I’m faced with the result of one batch right in front of me.”

“So we’re leaving,” Felicity determines, propped up against the bed’s headboard with one arm wrapped around Oliver’s waist, that sends strange signals that the Bellator doesn’t know how to interpret exactly, but making him purr slightly. “We’re screwing all of our plans so far and getting the hell out of dodge.”

“We’re accelerating our pre-existing timetable,” Caitlin corrects. “Tommy and I have already been making arrangements.” At Oliver’s suspicious look and Felicity’s surprised one, Caitlin rolls her eyes, commenting: “What, did you think we’d all be sitting on our asses doing nothing whilst we fretted? This isn’t a novel where the author’s dragging out the plotline unnecessarily for the sake of bulking up the book, this is real.”

Tommy appears, making Oliver screw his eyes up a little as his eyesight hazes for a second. “Alright, I called Thea, everything’s sorted. Dig and Lyla are grabbing the van. Cisco’s hacking the conservation server right now to scramble the tracker signal.” Tommy’s eyes fall on him and he smiles weakly at the Bellator. “Life’s become an action drama since you arrived, buddy.”

“Thea?” Felicity echoes.

Caitlin drops a duffle bag Oliver only then realises she’s been carrying, ruffling through it to pick out a fresh t-shirt roughly in the Bellator’s size and some other new items of clothing, whilst packing up his Arrow jacket and pants from where they are folded neatly on the dresser. “We need to take Oliver somewhere safe, where Price and the conservation aren’t going to be able to reach him - or, at least, have extreme difficulties trying to reach him. Somewhere secure, with high profile people with connections to the media and to the law courts if to protect Oliver, we’re forced to go public.”

Felicity’s eyes snap open wide in realisation, but before she can say anything, Oliver whispers, “The Queen family.”

Silence falls for a moment, before Lance says, “That’s insane.”

“It’s perfect,” Tommy amends, pointing at him with a raised eyebrow. “Look, Oliver saved Thea from that dirty cop. I called her, told her that the Arrow needs somewhere to crash - she still doesn’t know that he’s her amnesiac brother, don’t worry - and she agreed. We get into the Queen mansion, we explain the situation, and we reveal to Moira, Walter and Thea who Oliver really is.”

“And you really think that the Queens would be able to protect Oliver?” Felicity asks warily.

Lance shrugs. “Have’ta be honest, his logic is sound. Moira’s protective as hell, Thea too, and as soon as they find out who Oliver really is, even when he’s another species entirely now, there’s no way that they’re gonna let Price take him away.”

“Oliver staying with the Queen family will reduce Price’s access to him,” Caitlin agrees, “Reduce it enough that we’ll be able to get the surgery to get that tracker chip out done quickly, and then smuggle him out of the city.”

Oliver can simply feel the nerves coursing through Felicity’s body, the anxiety and worry plaguing her, and it makes him whine, turning to try and snuffle under her chin comfortingly. Felicity hushes him gently and strokes the nape of his neck. To be honest, he’s scared about this plan too - he’s never really entertained the thought of having to actually face his family, the one he can’t remember. It’s terrifying to think that there are people out there that used to be related to him, back when he was human, and knew everything about him, even loved him.

Past tense, of course - Oliver’s not sure whether or not they would know anything about him at all now. He can’t remember anything of his past life before the Gambit’s sinking, and he only knows about the Oliver Queen of five years ago because of the internet and his friends, but he definitely knows he’s not anything like that person anymore.

“So we’re really doing this,” he whispers.

Felicity chuffs softly into his ear soothingly as Caitlin exhales heavily and replies, swallowing, “Yeah, I guess so. If you’re completely comfortable with this plan, that is. We won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, Oliver.”

“Yeah, I mean, I realise that it might seem like we’re pressuring you into meeting Moira and Thea,” Tommy adds quickly, shooting him a look of support. “But if you’re really opposed to that idea, I’m sure we could come up with something different -”

“No,” he responds, not meeting anybody’s eyes, but subconsciously pressing back into Felicity’s body and curling his form up. “It’s a good plan.”

“Are you sure?” Lance questions worriedly.

“Yes.”

“Oliver,” Felicity says firmly. He closes his eyes with a huff. “Are you _sure_?”

“I…” He can’t lie to her. He physically, emotionally and mentally can’t. The bond forming between them due to him accepting her as his mate, and her accepting him, won’t allow dishonesty between them. Licking his dry lips and shivering due to his fever, Oliver replies quietly, “I’m apprehensive.”

“Then we won’t do it.”

“No. I’m… I’m nervous, but I know it’s the best option we have.” He twists so he’s seated sideways, leaning on the headboard next to Felicity with his legs beneath him. Tipping his forehead onto her shoulder, Oliver murmurs, “We should do this.”

Felicity scrutinises him for a second or two, observing his body language and taking note of everything about his reaction to this idea in a way only his mate can, before she turns back to where Caitlin, Tommy and Lance are standing awkwardly. “Okay, we’re doing this. What’s our first move?”

“Well, first, I think Oliver should probably put on a shirt,” Caitlin says dryly.

“Right. Right.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Oliver to get changed and dressed into fresh clothes, aided by only Felicity. He knows it’s due to the fact that he’s still sweating buckets because of his fever and he feels nauseous every thirty seconds and has to stop moving, but it’s embarrassing all the same. Felicity’s blush, though, is absolutely adorable, and twists something up inside of Oliver so he shivers, not from cold, but from something _else_. Felicity fist punches the air once he’s completely dressed, making the archer chuckle, and then she begins helping Oliver out into the living room.

Tommy texts Laurel on a burner phone Felicity apparently made when Oliver had been unconscious, and Lance and Caitlin gather up all her medical equipment and pack up Oliver’s quiver and bow, whilst Felicity wraps Oliver in a blanket, despite his complaining that he doesn’t need it.

“Dig and Lyla are here,” Tommy says, checking outside the window. Glancing down at his watch, he adds, “We’ve got another hour until the conservation servers come back online.”

Felicity slides into a chair at the kitchen table where her laptop is sitting, smirking. “Oh, I think I can triple that time.” She attempts to crack her knuckles and squeaks when it hurts, making everybody crack a grin. Oliver watches his mate with a smile as her hands dance across the keyboard, before she finishes with a flourish, announcing smugly, “And ‘I think’ just transformed into ‘I did’.”

“You’re awesome,” Tommy tells her. “We ready to get this party started?”

“Yup.” Caitlin shoulders two duffle bags, whilst Lance carries the other two. “Let’s go.”

Dig and Lyla are waiting in the front seat of the van when they get down to the street, looking solemn but alert. Neither of them say anything as they step out to help get Oliver into the van, only due to the fact that the Bellator is so sick that he can’t support his own weight, and Tommy and Lance have had to practically carry him down the stairs. Lance slips into the front, whilst Tommy, Caitlin and Felicity join Oliver in the back.

“Nice,” Felicity comments, on seeing the back of the van; a duvet has been placed down, and there are spare pillows and blankets strewn over it. “Very cosy.”

Caitlin shuts the door behind them and thumps the wall between the back and the front to signal to the others that they’re prepared to leave. They drive off, and Oliver finds his mind wandering again, his eyes flickering shut as he snuggles in Felicity’s arms with a deep rumble. With Felicity entwining one her hands with his, responding to his rumble with a comforting chuff, just like a leopard, and the deep purr of the van’s engine vibrating through his frame, Oliver succumbs to the heat and exhaustion.

* * *

_Oliver hefted a fierce snarl, his back colliding with the ground sharply as he was thrown into the cell carelessly by a pair of guards. They just laughed at him, making Oliver growl louder, before locking the cell door and departing. As soon as they were gone, Oliver’s growl tapered off into a whine of pain. Turning over onto his front, he tried to heave himself upwards onto his knees, but the intense pain left over from the injections hit and he collapsed again._

_“Fuck, kid, you okay?”_

_Oliver whined again, and it turned into a whimper as he was gently turned over and met by the worried faces of his comrades, Slade, Shado and Sara. It had been a month; well, he presumed it had been about a month, since he had first been thrown into a cell with them. A month since he had discovered that Sara was still alive, and he, Slade, Shado and Sara had formed an alliance, in agreement to defend each other. They told each other their stories, and the group had been fascinated by Oliver’s story of his first year on Lian Yu, Slade exclaiming in anger when he heard about Fyres killing Yao Fei. Now, more often than not, they were kept in the same cell together, under strict guard twenty-four seven, as the four of them were determined the most dangerous and the highest escape risks. Having a dozen or so guards watching the same cell meant that security was tighter, and gave the team fewer opportunities._

_“Oliver. Kid. Hey, you still with me?” Slade brought him back into the present by patting his cheek. “How you feeling?”_

_Sara had tears in her eyes and immediately slipped her hand into one of his; Slade looked at him sympathetically, his usual gruff eyes strangely gentle and sympathetic, whilst Shado’s gaze was purely analytical as she scanned him for injuries._

_“Like I was hit by a train,” Oliver gritted out. “And then given another five of those injections.”_

_“How many injections they give you today?”_

_“Nine.”_

_Slade hissed. “Shit. Come on, let’s get you some water.”_

_Sara was completely silent as Shado and Slade helped to drag Oliver over to one of the darker corners of the cell, pressing a flimsy plastic cup half full of slightly metallic tasting water. The water always tasted like metal, just like the food always tasted like sawdust, not that they were fed that much - only enough so that they had enough strength to survive the injections. Slade pressed into his side to try and provide warmth to the younger man’s shaking form whilst Shado checked his eyes and muscle responses, asking him short questions about how he was feeling. Eventually, Sara sat down crossed legged in front of Oliver and grasped his hand, just offering quiet support. When Oliver mewled in pain in response to Shado brushing against the injection side with her thumb, a deep rumble erupted from Slade’s chest. The older, gruffer man thought himself responsible for all of them, and therefore, as the self-appointed leader of the pack, he hated it whenever one of them returned in bad shape._

_“I honestly don’t know how you’re doing it, kid,” Slade grumbled. “You’re taking twice as much damage than any of us, and you’re still standing.”_

_It was widely known by all of the captured human beings labelled as ‘subjects’ by the scientists of the facility that Oliver had the new record for the most injections survived in a single procedure. His pain threshold was so high that the young man could take on average seven injections before the scientists were forced to pull him out for health reasons. Considering that Slade, who had held the previous record, had a pain threshold so high that he could be stabbed without flinching, that was saying something._

_“They said I’m their favourite,” Oliver whispered, eyes closed and silent sobs jerking his chest. “They said that I don’t scream anymore, so I’m their favourite, and that I’m fifty percent done.”_

_“Fifty percent?” Sara questioned, her voice hoarse and disbelieving. She was still recovering from being taken for the procedure yesterday morning, or Oliver presumed it had been yesterday morning - it was pretty hard to manage hours when you were stuck in an almost pitch black cell for days on end. The guards always mixed up the feeding, cleaning and inspection hours just because they enjoyed messing with their minds._

_“That’s what you took from that sentence?” Slade growled. “They said he’s their fucking favourite! I’ll kill them!”_

_“I think the reason why Sara is so shocked,” Shado cut in swiftly, her voice calm as always, “Is that Oliver has suffered half the number of procedures each of us has, yet somehow is twenty percent more advanced in his DNA mutation.” She frowned. “This is not good.”_

_“You’re gonna end up like Anatoly,” Sara murmured, blinking with wet eyes. “He advanced, he could take more injections and more procedures than any of us, and they pushed him too far, too fast, because they got too excited about it, and they killed him.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t think I’d survive losing you again.”_

_“We need to slow them down,” Slade said, voice stricken, and Oliver’s heart leapt into his mouth, because that was not good, when Slade sounded like that, it meant that something extremely bad and painful was on the horizon. “We need to stop them from taking you for procedures for a few weeks, so you can rest.”_

_“I agree,” Shado nodded. “If they are genuinely giving you more than seven injections every procedure, which are now occurring every other day, you will soon die, Oliver. We must do what we have to.” She turned to Slade solemnly. “You know what we have to do.” ___

_Sara looked panicked. “What do we have to do? What are you guys talking about?”_

_“I’m really sorry, kid.”_

_Before Oliver even understood what was going on, his heart thrumming in his chest and breathing speeding up due to his body’s worried reaction to his friends’ tones, Slade reached down, took hold of Oliver’s left arm with both hands, and manoeuvred his leg until his foot was pushing down onto the limb as well. Without any warning, Slade snapped his arm as if it was nothing more than a twig._

_Oliver choked on his scream, bucking underneath Slade and Shado’s hands as a haze of agony overcame him, his arm feeling like it was on fire. He felt a black cloud of darkness and pain descending over him as from out of the corner of his mind, he heard Sara screeching and Slade shouting for a guard._

_“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Slade told him, appearing just above him and looking pained. “Extreme times require extreme measures, and I’m not losing another friend.”_

_“Get away from him!” Sara shrieked, shoving Slade out of Oliver’s blurry vision as he heaved a sob. Crouching over Oliver protectively, Sara growled like a furious lioness guarding her cub, forcing Slade to back away from her friend. “You idiot! What if they think he’s weak and decide to kill him?!”_

_Slade unleashed a spine-tingling snarl that didn’t sound at all human, growling, “They fucking try and they’ll have to go through me!”_

_“Both of you, be quiet,” Shado ordered. “The guards are approaching with a physician.” A hand slipped into Oliver’s right hand and squeezed, and Shado’s face hazed into view as Oliver blinked at her, wheezing through the pain. “Be strong, xiǎo huī láng.”_

_Oliver was in too much pain, curled around his throbbing broken arm with his teeth gritted and eyes shut to notice the guards and doctor that had just arrived forcing Slade, Shado and Sara to the back of the cell, out of the way. Tensing in fear as a bare human hand fell onto his arm, Oliver mewled and instinctively tried to shift away, causing all of his friends to snarl ferociously, attempting to jump forwards to defend him._

_“I am examining his arm,” a calm, male voice told them, the patience held within the sentence making Oliver freeze in confusion. The scientists that did the procedures were always angry, frustrated or panicked. “There’s no need for you to defend your pack mate.”_

_“Try to hurt him and we’ll rip you apart,” was Slade’s dark response, ever the civilised gentleman._

_A small prick, and then relief from the pain. Oliver slumped, and he barely felt the doctor taking hold of his broken arm carefully. He kept his eyes closed, and he only knew when the doctor was apparently doing something to test his injury when Sara and Shado hissed, Slade echoing his previous protective growl._

_“Hmm. Yes. Broken. He’ll need a cast. How did this occur?”_

_The guard watching Oliver’s friends immediately piped up, “Little shit probably did it himself, wanting to get out of -”_

_“I wasn’t asking you.”_

_Okay, Oliver officially_ slightly _liked this human._

_“He landed on it really badly when the guards threw him in here,” Sara finally said, and luckily the lie wasn’t obvious in her voice. “I think he was so overcome by the residual pain of the injections before that, he didn’t even notice until we turned him over.”_

_“Thank you,” the male doctor replied, then, turning to the guard, he informed him, “I need to take Subject 141 to the med bay. Would you please contact the Practical R &D division and inform them?”_

_“They’re not going to be happy.”_

_“I’m aware of that. I’m fairly certain that the entirety of the organisation know that Subject 141 happens to be their favourite lab rat. You can tell them in response that if they wish for him to remain alive to complete their little experiment, he requires medical attention and rest. Or need I remind you of what happened to Subject 12?”_

_The guard scowled. “We have the sponsor coming in tomorrow. She wants to check on progress, and R &D want to present 141.”_

_“They will not be presenting him at all if he dies of exhaustion. I will speak directly to her if I have to in order to explain, but for now, I must take 141 to the med bay. You contact R &D. No, go, I will be fine. They won’t harm me. If it makes you feel better, lock the cell door and ask guards to watch.”_

_Footsteps and the snick of the cell door shutting signalled the guard’s departure. When Oliver cracked his eyes open, relaxing slightly, Slade, Sara and Shado crept forwards, teeth bared at the only full human in the vicinity._

_“If you think we’re going to let you take the kid away, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Slade rumbled threateningly._

_“No harm will come to your friend,” the doctor answered. “I don’t work with the scientists handling the procedures, nor the organisation funding this operation. I’m as much as a prisoner here as you are.”_

_“What are you going to do to help Oliver?” Shado questioned._

_His broken arm twinged slightly despite the painkillers, making Oliver whimper as it was lifted up, in order to be examined. “I will have to cast his arm and then run a course of pain medication as well as antibiotics. His advanced transition will have caused his bones to be hollowed and more fragile, and due to his increased pain, his immune system is currently reduced in effectiveness. Hopefully the painkillers and antibiotics will help.”_

_“And how can we trust you?”_

_“Slade,” Shada said warningly._

_“I’m sorry, I don’t know quite what you’re implying,” the doctor replied, sounding offended._

_“You say you’re a prisoner, but at least you’re not locked in a fucking cell and getting experimented on and tortured like the rest of us!” Slade snarled. “You could stop the procedures, call for help, but you’re just helping them keep us alive for longer so they can torture us more!”_

_“I’m going to help your friend, is that not enough to earn your trust?”_

_“This is the real world, mate, and after everything I’ve - we’ve - suffered through, you really think just casting a fucking broken arm is going to make us trust you?”_

_A beat of silence, and then the doctor looked down at Oliver, and Oliver through his slitted eyes gazed back up at him, and to his shock, the doctor smiled. “Very well mannered friend, you have here.”_

_“He’s an acquired taste,” flew out of Oliver’s mouth as a rasp before he could stop himself._

_“Dickhead,” Slade growled, although the look he shot the younger man was fond._

_“You get used to him,” Sara added, amused._

_Narrowing his eyes at the stranger, Slade asked suspiciously, “So, what’s your name?”_

_The man stuck his hand out for Slade to shake. “Ivo. Anthony Ivo.”_

* * *

Oliver awakens from the dream-that-is-a-memory with a confused frown on his face. Subconsciously he checks his left arm, the recollection of horrific pain as Slade snapped it dancing in his mind. As he glances down at it, however, the archer sees an IV line attached to it, and he comes back to reality and realises where he is, in the back of the van with his mate, Caitlin and Tommy, being driven to the Queen mansion to meet Oliver Queen’s family. He shivers, drawing one of the blankets over him, and the distress welling within him makes Oliver want to search for Felicity.

She meets him halfway, appearing instantly and pulling him into his lap, chuffing comfortingly. Purring in response, Oliver nuzzles into her stomach, trying to distract her as he sneakily reaches with his right hand to pull the needle out of his left arm.

It’s like a bucket of ice water being cascaded over him as he’s reminded harshly that he and his mate are not alone, as a hand shoots out to grab his right wrist and he raises his eyes to meet Tommy’s gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, buddy,” Tommy tells him quietly, tilting his head towards Caitlin, who has just turned around from texting on her phone to see the archer fiddling with the IV.

Her hand flies out and slaps Oliver’s own away from the needle, ignoring Oliver’s growl as she fixes piercing, stern eyes on him. “No,” she says warningly.

Oliver rumbles. “Yes.”

“ _No_ ,” Caitlin insists.

“ _Yes_ ,” Oliver whines.

Felicity runs her hand through the archer’s hair, compelling the Bellator to purr louder as she repeats with a soft smile, “No.”

He grumbles. “Fine. Doesn’t mean I’m ever going to like IVs.”

“It’s not an IV,” Caitlin tells him, flicking a strand of hair behind her ear as she takes his wrist and checks he hasn’t yanked it out. “It’s a blood transfusion. I just used a specially made opaque white tube so that Felicity doesn’t faint.”

“Yeah, I’m squeamish,” Felicity agrees sheepishly.

“She’s awful, honestly,” Tommy complains. “A little paper cut and she looks like she’s going to vomit.”

Oliver follows the line with his eyes to find the other needle has been slipped into the crook of Felicity’s elbow. “Felicity?”

“Because you’re ill, your immune system’s weakened,” Felicity explains hurriedly. “And that means that any of the remaining parts of Laurel’s DNA could survive more easily to implant in an embryo, but it also gives us the opportunity to make sure that definitely doesn’t happen by introducing my DNA into your system now, whilst you’re sick, as it has better chance of acceptance.”

“Because you’re my mate,” he whispers, maintaining eye contact to search for any sort of reaction from Felicity about that statement. Even now, he’s not sure whether or not she’s okay with it. She has to have some apprehension.

Felicity doesn’t even bat an eyelid, and there’s compassion and kindness in her eyes as she replies back softly, “Yes, because of that.”

“And… we’re just about done,” Caitlin announces, beginning to stop the transfusion, and causing both Oliver and Felicity to flush and look away from one another. “We set it up as soon as you fell asleep, so there should be enough of Felicity’s DNA in your system now.” As she dismantles the kit, she adds on the end, “I think we’re almost at the Queen mansion.”

Nervous jitters overcome him again and Oliver begins shaking. Immediately, Felicity attempts to soothe him by humming, pressing up against his side to provide warmth. When the van comes to a halt, he tenses immediately and lets out a long, low whine, which Felicity responds to by running her hand through his hair.

The doors of the van open and Diggle ducks his head inside, telling them in a solemn voice, “We’re here.”

“Give us a minute or two,” Felicity requests. “He’s already freaking out.”

“The conservation servers will only be down for another ten minutes,” Caitlin informed her apologetically. “We need to get Oliver inside and the building secure before his tracker comes back online.”

“We’re not going to rush him inside and risk triggering a panic attack,” Felicity snaps.

Caitlin and Diggle exchange glances, before Diggle sighs and allows, “Five minutes. We’ll give you five minutes to calm him down.”

Caitlin slides out the van, Tommy following after her. “I’ll go ahead and explain to the Queens, you know… prep them for meeting Oliver.” His gaze softens when it lands on Oliver’s trembling form. “It’ll be okay, bud. Everything’s gonna go great.”

The doors are shut behind them, leaving Oliver alone with his mate, surrounded by blankets and pillows as he nuzzled under her chin. Together, they go through breathing exercises that help his heart rate, which whilst before was thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings, is now matched completely to Felicity’s.

A knock on the door startles them both and Felicity pulls out of Oliver’s grasp. Lance looks sheepish and he glances inside, telling them, “We’ve got four minutes to get you both inside the building and secure it.”

“Tommy’s prepped the Queens?” Felicity asks shortly as she straightens. “How are they taking it?”

Lance offers Felicity his hand as she steps out, opening the back doors up wide. “Moira was angry at first. Didn’t believe a thing Tommy was saying. I mean, I think I would have had the same reaction if somebody tried to tell me Sara was alive.”

Clenching his fists into the blankets, Oliver attempts to keep silent at that statement, but can’t hold back a whimper from escaping his lips. Sara. Of course he would have to bring up Sara, so soon after Oliver is feeling so shaken after that last memory-dream. He still hasn’t informed Lance that his daughter was transformed into a Bellator too, or was being made into one – Oliver can’t remember whether or not she survived the process yet. Felicity chuffs back to calm him as she helps him up and out, her shoulder propping him up from beneath his right arm. Lance shuts and locks the van before getting underneath his other arm.

Although his vision is blurry at first due to his illness and the heat still boiling him from the inside out, Oliver is still able to see the magnificent sight of the massive house looming above him. It looks just like a fortress; beautiful, yet impenetrable. He jerks as very vague, hazy memories strike him; this house used to be his home. He can remember laughter and warmth and family. He doesn’t realise he’s making a deep purring sound until Lance chuckles and Felicity repeats it back to him.

Diggle and Lyla are waiting in the open doorway, and as soon as they’ve entered the building they begin securing the place. The interior of the house is just as elegant as the exterior, with lavish furniture and expensive-looking decorations. The light coming from the chandelier is so bright that Oliver has to close his eyes, because it causes his already throbbing head to ache even more.

Caitlin slips up to them and quickly checks Oliver’s pulse. “Is he calm?”

“Enough,” Felicity responds.

“Mrs Queen, Mr Steele and Miss Queen are waiting in the living room with Tommy,” Caitlin answered quietly. “They’re mistrustful and sceptical at the moment, so don’t expect a warm welcome.”

“Did Tommy -”

“Explain everything?” Caitlin finishes, grimacing. “Yeah. Didn’t take. I don’t think they’ll believe anything we’re saying until they actually see Oliver.”

Oliver can feel Felicity’s shaky exhale as she raises her hand and places it on his chest, questioning him quietly, “You ready?”

Swallowing, the archer nods weakly, unable to stop himself from trembling as he replies, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“We’ll be here,” Lance tells him. “Every step of the way.”

As Lance and Felicity start helping the Bellator into the living room, Oliver pulls away from them, energy surging into his body and letting him stand on his own as he comes face to face with Oliver Queen’s family. The three humans are seated on a posh couch, their backs to them as they cross the threshold into the lounge area, but the trio instantly stand and turn to greet them.

The older female, with styled blonde hair and a graceful manner, whom he recognises from shadowy memories as Oliver Queen’s mother, has a stern, indifferent, cold expression plastered on her face. The Bellator rumbles quietly, recognising the guise as one of defence and doubt. The male, with a straightened back and refined appearance, is more open with his emotions, looking completely stunned silent. The one that draws Oliver’s attention though, is the reaction of Thea Queen.

Thea, the young girl who Oliver had rescued from a dirty cop. Thea, the young girl who now looks utterly devastated, outraged and confused at the same time, tears in her eyes as she gazes at the hooded archer with desperate eyes. Thea, Oliver Queen’s little sister, once upon a time his little sister.

“Oliver?” Moira Queen whispers, fear obvious within her voice as she clutches the male’s hand, hesitantly blinking at the archer. “Is it really you?”

Reaching up with one shaking hand, Oliver pulls down the hood, exposing his face. The gasps and whimpers the action causes sends tendrils of an indescribable emotion fleeting through the Bellator’s body, making a shiver run down his spine.

He doesn’t know what prompts him - it’s either Felicity’s supportive hand on the small of his back, or foggy memories fuzzing up his mind and confusing him so that he can’t separate forgotten past and terrifying present - but Oliver croaks out, his voice breaking, “Mom?”

Moira sobs, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Oliver takes a step forwards, not understanding what drives him, but he wants to get closer to these humans. As he does so, Moira stumbles towards him, her hand out to touch him. As her hand comes into contact with his green Hood jacket, the female throws her arms around him.

Felicity makes a soothing noise behind the archer when he stiffens and attempts to pull away, _humans = danger_ blaring loud and strong in his mind. Realising his reaction isn’t positive, Moira releases him, tears now spilling over as she sobs.

The moment is ruined, however, when Thea Queen pushes forwards, shoves her mother out of way and punches Oliver straight in the face.

* * *


	18. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea's reaction to Oliver prompts an even more surprising reaction from Felicity. The Queen family welcomes the team. Oliver's self-destructive tendencies make a major appearance.
> 
> (Trigger Warnings for this chapter, please read chapter notes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chucks chapter at everybody and scuttles away*
> 
> H-Hey guys. *waves awkwardly* How's everybody doing? Y-yeah... Haha... I'm back? Sort of? I mean... Here's a chapter, hope you enjoy :) It's a longer chapter for you guys to say thanks for all being so patient.
> 
> Just to say, thank you all so goddamn much for all your wonderful, amazing support over the last few months. Your comments give me validation, and I honestly don't know how I would've been able to continue this fic without you're incredible support. I love you guys so damn much. THANK YOU ALL OF YOU.
> 
> Another game for you all, as you seem to enjoy the last one so much: Comment with one other person in the Arrow 'Verse you think will make an appearance in the fic, that hasn't already.
> 
> ( **Trigger Warning** : This chapter contains a nightmare with description of violence and violent medical procedures. It also contains panic attacks and minor self harm.)

Due to Oliver’s weakened state, the sheer force of the punch alone buckles his knees, causing him to half fall to the floor with a strangled sound of pain and shock. Thea stands in front of him, simply fuming with anger, vibrating as she takes another step forwards, probably to make another blow.

Lance darts forwards past Moira and the male beside her, who both look too surprised to do anything, shouting out at Thea to stop, obviously expecting Oliver to react badly. And in all seriousness, _humans=danger_ is blaring like a foghorn within the archer’s brain, one half screaming at him to rise up and protect himself, protect his mate from this attack, but the other yelling at him to get out of there as soon as possible.

It turns out that Lance is, in fact, worrying about the reaction of the wrong person. In response to Thea’s step forwards, Felicity counters it, rushing in front of the Bellator, who by now is dazedly sitting on the floor, and releasing a snarl that resembles the fiercest lioness, eyes ablaze. Oliver doesn’t know who appears more shocked - the Queen family, who know nothing of their connection, or Caitlin, Tommy and Lance, who have never seen Felicity do something like this before.

“Stay away from him,” Felicity growls, protectiveness dripping from her voice as she takes up a defensive position in front of her mate. Oliver can only stare up at her in complete awe, a deep tingling sensation sweeping over his body as he huffs, trying to tell his mate that he’s unhurt and alright. “Do you have a reason for punching him, or did you just do it to be cruel and cold-hearted?”

Thea doesn’t back down from Felicity, practically spitting at her as she hisses back, “He’s been back in Starling City for _months_ and he didn’t let us know that he was alive. When he saved me, he could have told me, but instead he just lied and manipulated us. What kind of person doesn’t even have the decency to tell their _family_ that they’re in fact _alive_ after they’ve been presumed dead for _five fucking years?_ ”

“Somebody who has amnesia and can’t even remember his family after he was captured and _experimented on_ to become an entirely new endangered species!” Felicity fires back.

“But he hasn’t got amnesia, he’s been remembering all kinds of stuff,” Thea says defensively, pointing at Tommy, continuing, “Tommy said that Oliver sort of recognised him and Laurel! He’s remembering stuff about where he was turned into this thing! How are we supposed to know whether or not he actually can remember us and has just been _lying_ that he can’t!”

“Because I trust Oliver!” Felicity shouts back, raising her voice as she steps forwards, crowding into the space of Oliver’s little sister, a girl she barely knows. “And he trusts me! And we tell each other practically everything! So maybe if you actually attempted to build up some trust between you and your _amnesiac, no longer human brother_ then he would tell you what he remembers!”

“Who the hell are you anyway?” Thea yells back. “You’re a nobody! You’re not part of this family, or one of our friends, so who the hell are you to say that you know my brother?!”

“I’m Felicity Smoak, and I am Oliver’s mate!” Felicity snarls back, straightening her back so that she gains height and stands towering over Thea intimidatingly. “And if you try and hurt him again, I’ll burn both you and your entire digital world _to the ground!_ ”

Oliver doesn’t know what he expects to happen next, mostly due to the fact that he’s gazing up at Felicity’s back, wide-eyed with astonishment and pride and some strange kind of _attraction_ , but he does not anticipate Thea Queen tearing up and running off out of sight.

Felicity instantly deflates as soon as the perceived threat is gone, turning and crouching down besides Oliver. Her hands flit nervously over his chest and face, checking him for injury as she helps him back up, always making sure there is a supportive point of contact between them. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? I swear, if she tries to punch you again…”

“I’m okay,” he replies quietly, blinking at her with a weak half smile on his face. “Just wasn’t expecting that kind of welcome.”

“Neither was I,” Felicity agrees. “I kind of expected her to be a little more grateful that you saved her from that cop. Boy, does she have some anger management issues.”

“She’s just troubled,” Moira says, finally speaking up as she shuffles nervously on her feet. She still manages to retain her grace and elegance though, her head lifted just high enough to look regal, but not like she’s looking down her nose at them. “It’s come as a shock to all of us that Oliver is…” Her eyes soften as she tries to reach for his arm again. “Oh, I never thought I’d see you again, sweetheart. I thought you were…”

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m alive, Mom.”

Moira looks like she’s about to cry. “You say it just like you used to.” The male now standing just off to the side of her offers a small cough, and Moira snaps out of it, urging the man forwards. “Oh, Oliver, this is Walter, he’s -”

“ - Your mate?” Oliver may not remember his family, but he can smell. And this male has marked his scent all over his mother, and the contact between them is anything but platonic. He’s not blind.

Moira looked flustered. “Well - uh -”

“We’re married,” Walter cuts in smoothly, not put off by Oliver’s wording, offering his hand for Oliver to shake. The Bellator takes it warily. “I’ve got to say, it’s damn good to see you, although I do wish the circumstances of this family reunion could be different.”

“Whatever the circumstances, I’m overjoyed to have you back with us. Especially in this house, our family home.” Moira looks hopeful. “Do you recognise anything?”

Oliver glances around, trying to trigger a memory. One strong scene pops up, and he gestures to one of the staircases, frowning. “Mattresses.”

Moira looked confused. “Hmm?”

“There - there were mattresses there.” Oliver looks down at Felicity, frowning. Maybe he’s wrong. It sounds ridiculous, but with his mate’s encouraging nod and her hand at the small of his back again, he continues, “They were at the top and we sat on them to - to go down?”

Moira looked absolutely thrilled, beaming. “That was Thea’s twelfth birthday party. We took mattresses to the top of the stairs and had races riding on them down.”

“There was strawberry cheesecake,” Oliver says absentmindedly, gazing around searchingly, pressing his side into Felicity’s as his eyes pass over Lance, Caitlin and Tommy, who are hanging back to let them have their moment. “Strawberry was her favourite.”

Diggle and Lyla arrive back, obviously done with securing the house. They look a little surprised and concerned by the fact that Felicity is supporting Oliver again, but they don’t say anything about it, Lyla instead saying, “House is secure. I’m gonna go and talk to security at the gate whilst Johnny sets up a security centre.”

“Anywhere specific you’d like us to set up, Mrs Queen?” Diggle questions politely.

“The library is fine,” Moira tells them, not moving her gaze from her son. “It’s down to the left, the door on the right.”

“Thanks,” Diggle nods. He turns to Caitlin. “You got everything?”

“Yeah, we’ve got it all covered,” she smiles.

“Very good,” Walter nods approvingly.

Diggle and Lyla split then, Lyla heading outdoors whilst Diggle goes to the library. They watch the two of them leave silently, until Oliver turns back to his mother and says quietly, “The library used to be mine and Thea’s study space.”

“Not that you did much studying,” Moira replies, but she’s beaming happily.

The archer shakes his head, a smile quirking his lips as he remembers, “We only ever used to play hide and go seek in there.”

Felicity makes another rumbling noise as she rubs her hand over Oliver’s chest, turning to Moira, who is now sporting a delighted expression. “Oliver needs to rest. It may have been a short journey here, but he’s been quite sick lately, and could probably do with the sleep.”

“Of course,” Walter pipes up. “As soon as Tommy called, we asked Raisa, our housekeeper, to prepare some bedrooms for all of you. We’re very happy to accommodate all of you during this trying time. Consider our security, your security. Director Price and her conservation will definitely not be reaching Oliver here; you are all perfectly safe.” He tilts his head towards the stairs. “If you’ll follow me.”

“I should actually head out,” Lance interrupts, checking his watch. “I gotta get Laurel, she’s working a case over at CNRI.”

“Bring her straight here, Detective,” Moira says, although it comes out more like an order. “Both of you are at risk if the conservation are truly as obsessed with Oliver as you say they are. We will provide rooms for you until this fiasco dies down.”

“Thanks, Moira,” Lance replies graciously. He shoots Oliver a look, pointing at him. “No funny business, kid, you do everything Felicity and Caitlin tell you to.” With a quick goodbye to everybody, he departs.

With that sorted, Walter leads everybody upstairs, Tommy helping Felicity support Oliver as he stumbles on a few steps, with Caitlin following up behind with her doctor’s bag and the duffle full of Oliver’s clothes. His bow and quiver are also there, although Oliver can’t remember when Caitlin brought them along. Moira looks increasingly concerned every time Oliver almost trips over a step, looking like she wants to help, but every time Felicity catches him and chitters soothingly to calm him, which Oliver responds to with a rumble.

The first door is pushed open, revealing a large bedroom, with tasteful decor and a freshly made bed. Oliver feels like he should recognise the room, because his mind twinges in response, but nothing more comes.

“This is your room,” Moira says to him softly. “I never had the heart to change a thing. I was thinking - maybe it will help you remember?”

Oliver hums back non-committedly, looking around. It seems secure enough, the windows are definitely a danger, but he can deal with that later. They head inside, Felicity and Tommy lowering him onto the bed so he’s sitting on the edge, and his mate settles beside him as Caitlin very quickly gives him a check over, checking his temperature and BP. Tommy vanishes for a few minutes whilst the medical check goes on, returning with another duffel bag, handing it over to Felicity - it smells unbelievably like her, making Oliver suspect that it’s full of her clothes.

“Alright, do you want to lie down and take a nap? I’ll unpack all of our things,” Felicity tells him, standing as she cups the back of his neck gently.

Oliver is about to answer when Moira cuts in, her voice frigid and hard as she says, “We prepared a separate room for you, Miss Smoak.”

“I’ll be staying with Oliver,” Felicity replies back, unfazed.

“I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate,” Moira responds stiffly.

The archer can see when Felicity tenses. “I’m Oliver’s mate, and I’m not going to leave him alone when he needs me.”

“What exactly does this mate business entail?” Moira questions, her eyes narrowing in such a way that Oliver chitters nervously.

“It’s personal,” Caitlin cuts in smoothly, obviously sensing Felicity’s rising anger as the blonde straightens and tenses, a deep growl erupting from her throat once again. The doctor shoots Felicity a look to get her to quiet down, and his mate turns back to him with a grumble. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Queen, but we can take it from here.”

Moira sends them scathing glances, before her gaze softens on Oliver. Offering him specifically a warm smile, she says, “Breakfast tomorrow will be served at nine, we’ll have Raisa cook whatever you want, sweetheart. Sleep well.”

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

She manages another gentle smile before backing out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her. As soon as Moira has vanished, Oliver shudders and lets his head fall onto Felicity’s shoulder, nuzzling with a whine into her neck. She shushes him and wraps one arm around his back, rubbing soft circles before helping him lie backwards onto the bed. Tommy shifts sideways so that’s he’s not in the way of Felicity lying back next to Oliver, one of her arms resting across his waist.

Caitlin finishes packing up her equipment, saying, “Alright, Oliver, your breathing seems fine, your heartbeat is a little fast at the moment and your temperature is quite high, but I think some proper sleep and rest will help that out. Your system should have flushed out the hormones and DNA by tomorrow, so you should feel better tomorrow morning. I took some blood earlier, and I’m going to test it now, and tomorrow we’ll take some more and do the final checks.” She turns to Felicity. “If he feels ill later on or during the night, shout for me, I’ll come running.”

“Okay,” Felicity mutters, tucking her chin down onto Oliver’s shoulder.

“Can I please address the elephant in the room here?” Tommy asks, crossing his arms as he stands.

“Yes,” Caitlin says. “Because it’s something I’ve been wondering about too.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods, before turning back to the Bellator and his mate and questioning loudly, “Felicity, what the _freaking hell?_ ”

Oliver startles at the loudness of Tommy’s voice, more annoyed at the fact that the human did it without warning that the fact that he raised his voice, and Felicity purrs soothingly at him before fixing her eyes on Tommy and asking calmly, “What?”

“You’re acting like -” Tommy waves his arms around wildly before finishing lamely, “Like _him!_ ”

“I think what Tommy is trying to say, Felicity,” Caitlin says, “Is that, as soon as and ever since Thea presented as a threat to Oliver, your actions and reactions have been more primal and instinctive in nature, more like a Bellator. And I think I know why - now you’ve accepted each other as mates, and you’ve both been presented with the idea of Oliver possibly becoming pregnant - your protective instincts have erupted.”

“That’s a good thing though, right?” Oliver asks, eyes closed as he relaxes into the bed with Felicity pressing her side into his.

“I mean, I guess so,” Caitlin shrugs. Her lips tick up in a smile as she adds, “Felicity should probably stop growling and hissing so much, if she doesn’t want to sound like a werewolf.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Felicity rolls her eyes. “Thanks, guys. Oliver needs rest, you said so yourself, so shouldn’t you be going?” she says pointedly.

Caitlin smirks and picks up her bag, giving a short wave before exiting the room; Tommy is close on her heels, only winking with a swift, “Don’t get too frisky, children,” before he hurries out after her. The door shuts, and they are bathed in silence, and Oliver is finally able to release all of his tension, as half of him had still been prepared for a fight when the other two humans were in the room. Knowing he is now alone in the room with only his mate keeping him company, wrapped around him protectively, is an immense comfort. He shifts on the bed so he’s lying on his side, staring at Felicity beside him, her head resting on her arm, which was propped up on her elbow. She blinks at him with compassionate cobalt eyes, brushing her chin against his forehead in a soothing gesture.

“You need to rest,” she mumbles.

“What time is it?”

“It’s around five pm,” Felicity checks. “But the last few days for you have ben particularly draining and tiring, so you should get an early night, get some sleep. You’ll feel better after.”

Oliver nods, fixing his eyes on the wall as he murmurs, “I would usually be preparing to go out on patrol right now.”

Felicity winces in sympathy and rubs his arm soothingly. “I know, Oliver, I know. Everything’s chaotic and strange at the moment, and hardly anything makes sense. How are you coping with all of it? Be honest.”

“Not...well,” he responds tiredly. “I’m still fighting those instincts that keeping telling me I need to get back out into the field and onto the streets to help control that balance, and combined with all the recent revelations lately and…” He smiles gently. “And you, of course… I feel like my entire life has been thrown off-course.”

“It has,” she replies. “I’m so sorry about that, Oliver. You don’t deserve this mess.”

“I’d rather have this mess than be a prisoner of the conservation,” he mutters. Humming, he closes his eyes. “I’d rather be here with you, off duty, completely helpless, than be there, on duty, but being constantly watched and experimented on.”

Felicity’s hand slips to his naval and she rubs her thumb over his stomach. “And this whole…self-impregnation thing?”

He frowns, not opening his eyes but leaning in to nuzzle his head under his mate’s chin. “I… I don’t…”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she murmurs. “But I think it could help.”

“The injections of the hormones… and them making me sick… it, um…” Oliver shifts uncomfortably on the bed, shivers running through his form as he whispers, “I don’t know why but it reminds me of _that place_.”

Felicity’s hand halts in its movement, brushing circles on his stomach. She heaves herself upwards, until she’s sitting beside him, looking down concernedly. “Where you were turned into a Bellator? Did they try and trigger your asexual reproduction there as well?”

“I can’t remember,” Oliver says honestly. “ _They_ might have done. _They_ did a lot of things to us whilst we were there, after we were turned…”

Felicity nods, swallowing as she asks hesitantly, “Us? You, um, you mentioned before that there were others with you, and you recognised the other Bellators in conservation, being watched, when shown pictures.”

“There were others,” he breathes. This is his chance. His chance to come clean about Sara, to tell Felicity that Lance’s daughter was there, was trapped and tortured and transformed into a Bellator with him. He so desperately wants to tell her. “Felicity, there’s something I need to -”

Her cell phone rings, startling them both. Oliver snarls in response, and a deep growl erupts from Felicity’s throat until she realises it’s her phone, and shoots him an apologetic look. Whimpering as his mate is forced to get up, Oliver lies completely still, watching Felicity as she speaks hushedly to whoever is on the other end of the line. He can do this, he just has to wait until his mate has finished speaking on the phone and then he can tell her about Sara, he can tell her about Slade and Shado and Sara and everything that happened at _that place_. But then, as Felicity slips her phone away and turns back to him with a crumpled, sad expression, Oliver realises that he lost his chance.

“That was Cisco. The conservation completely crashed STAR Labs’ servers, trying to get hold of your recent blood work results. They must have realised the connection with Caitlin. Luckily, they didn’t get any information, I put up a load of firewalls to stop that sort of thing happening, but Cisco needs me there to reboot the system and put up some more protection so that it doesn’t happen again.”

Oliver reads between the lines. Felicity has to leave. He turns over, twisting the sheets beneath him as he buries his head into his pillow, trying not to cry. He refuses to cry. Felicity must realise his reaction is bad, because she comes forwards and strokes his back, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. When he whines, she shushes him gently.

“Sleep,” she advises gently. “Sleep, and I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles.

“I have to, honey, I hate it too, but I have to go.” She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ll have Caitlin check in on you every hour, and if you feel sick, go and find her, okay?”

“Hmm.” He’d much rather just have Felicity stay in bed with him, making sure he’s okay. Whilst before he would have revelled in the chance to be alone, enjoying the silence and the thinking time, now he only thinks that every moment alone, is another moment without his mate by his side. It makes him wary, pumps nervous energy around his body that makes him tense and his muscles strain. “Please come back quick.”

“I will,” Felicity whispers with a weak smile. “Get some rest, my love.” With that, she leaves the room, closing the door gently behind her, so that Oliver remains alone, cold and in the darkness.

Uneasy, Oliver searches the room with sweeping eyes. It’s eerie, and creepy, to be sleeping in a room that seems familiar, and yet new, at the same time. It’s even more unsettling to know that this was Oliver Queen’s room, before the Gambit, before the island and before that place, and Oliver doesn’t have any proper memories of it.

Sleep. Felicity said to sleep. His mate knows what’s best for him. Inhaling a shuddering breath, Oliver draws the cover over him, twisting around and turning until he’s made a comfortable nest underneath and around him. Closing his eyes and forcing his breathing to even out, he tries to get his body to relax. And he rests.

* * *

_Cold. Dark. He was caged, curled up in the freezing cold, shaking and trembling in the confined space. The pitch black confinement pressed into him from every side, making him sick to the stomach. He was barely clothed, wearing only a thin cotton t-shirt and thin cotton pants, and both were soaked with his cold sweat and tears._

_His broken arm had healed quickly, at a miraculous rate. But as soon as Ivo took the cast off, he was whisked away. He didn’t even get to see Slade, Shado and Sara, before being thrown into a tiny metal cage. The scientists had barked and chatted above him, talking about Oliver being a threat to himself, a danger to the other subjects, that this was the kindest solution, locking him up and locking him away so that he couldn’t hurt himself anymore, and they could focus primarily on him as a test subject. He was their favourite, he remembered them saying, and they wanted to finish the procedure on him, finish him so they could parade him around and show him off to their sponsors._

_Oliver missed his pack. He missed Slade’s comforting, rumbling, protective growls, and Shado’s soft touch as she tended his injuries, and Sara’s warm embraces and gentle, soothing words._

_Suddenly, blinding white light appeared above and the top of the cage was lifted off. His head snapped upwards and he unleashed a fierce, feral snarl, his eyes wild with fear. Where were they taking him now? Was there going to be another procedure?_

_He startled and let out a sharp cry as a bucket of cold water was thrown over him, the icy liquid cascading over his shoulders and torso, drenching his clothes and causing shivers to erupt all over his body. The cold was numbing and his muscles cramped up, so he couldn't fight as the scientists dragged him out of the box into the white-tiled sterilised floor._

_His head was petted, an unkind hand cascading through his wet hair and scratching his scalp as a cold voice told him, “Good boy. Almost done with you, 141. Good boy.” Oliver trembled, trying to jerk away from the touch with a keening noise of fear. They treated him an animal, like a dog they had to train. Like he was a stallion they needed to break in order to ride._

_“Please stop -” he tried to whisper, but as soon as he spoke, he was slapped harshly across his face. He whimpered, drawing into himself, falling silent._

_“No talking,” the voice barked, and then the hand returned, stroking down his back, down the entire length of his spine that jutted out of his skin due to his malnutrition and weight loss, making him shudder again. “No talking, no screaming. Good boy.”_

_He was pulled and yanked onto a cold metal table and he groaned, blinking to try and adjust the eyes to the brightness. Needles pierced his skin on the underside of his wrist, under his collarbone, at the back of his hand._

_So this was a procedure. Except before, there had never been so many needles. There had only been an IV, and the needle with the burning substance that changed his DNA. Oliver cried out like a wounded animal in agony but one of the substances in the one of the needles paralysed him, and he couldn't move. He panicked. They’d never paralysed him before. They’d only ever tied him down using restraints. He was so afraid, and scared, and he had no idea what was happening to him._

_Subconsciously, he began screaming. The scientists reared back, shouting angrily, rage evident in their usually blank expressions._

_“I said no talking!” Before Oliver knew what was happening, he was being struck in his ribs with a cattle prod. Electricity surged through his form, burning and igniting pain all along his nerves._

_The agony was overwhelming. He knew they did it to stop him from screaming, but another howl broke the surface. As he shrieked, another needle appeared, and all he knew was that he wanted to die, he'd rather die than suffer this, before the darkness descended and yanked him into the black._

Oliver awakens with a scream just as powerful as his one in his dream. He lurches upwards and out of the warmth of the nest on the bed, his hands clutching at his blankets and his torso covered in sweat. It was just a nightmare, he knows that, but it was a memory as well, and a painful one at that.

He immediately searches for Felicity, whimpering. But his mate is nowhere to be seen. The bedroom is dark and empty and cold, just like it had been when Felicity had left to go and help Cisco, and Oliver thinks he might just break down crying.

Leaping to his feet, he begins pacing around the bedroom, desperately trying to forget and stop himself from trembling. The fear from the memory has taken over his body, making adrenalin surge through him as well as unadulterated terror. He wants Felicity, he wants her so badly it hurts, he needs his mate to tell him that it wasn’t real, that it was only just a dream and that he is fine.

But she’s not here. Felicity isn’t here, and he’s not fine. He’s terrified. He needs to feel something physical, something that will overtake the fear and fill him up with something other than terror.

The only thing he can think of is pain.

So he breaks into a sprint and slams himself into one of the walls. His nerves light up and his shoulder explodes in pain. It's a welcome relief, because it's here, it's now.

The fear remains at the forefront of his mind, however, so he hauls himself at the opposite wall, throwing his body into the hard service again, and crying out at the flare of agony. He continues, alternating between walls, until he knows his body is covered in bruises and he's probably sprained something, maybe even broken a bone.

He runs, ready to slam against the wall again and revel in the blessed pain and reprieve from the fear, when strong arms catch him around the waist and he's tackled to the floor. It's almost equal to the pain of throwing himself against the wall, maybe a little less - but it does the trick.

"The hell do you think you're doing, Oliver?" Diggle demands, rolling him over carefully on the floor and standing above him, looking absolutely furious.

Oliver shrugs, wincing slightly at the pain that comes along with it, and he says blankly, in a dull voice, "Nothing."

Quickly, he glances over at the door. He hadn’t even noticed it opening. Diggle hasn’t come alone. Tommy is standing there, looking tired and dazed, but also confused and worried. Moira and Walter are just behind him, looking very concerned themselves. Maybe slamming himself into the wall wasn’t the best plan - it might provide pain, but it also made a lot of noise, Oliver just realises.

"Really?" Diggle interrupts his thoughts angrily. "Because to me, it looks like you just tried to give yourself a concussion and break a few bones. What is this, Oliver? Some weird version of a suicide attempt?"

"I don't know," Oliver replies, not looking at him, wary of the human's fury. _They were so angry... The scientists were always so angry._

Diggle reaches down to grab his arm to yank him up into a standing position, and Oliver knows what's coming, but despite that as soon as the human's hand makes contact with his skin, he flinches violently and his breaking kicks up until within seconds, he's hyperventilating, feeling sick to stomach. He wants out, he wants to get out, he needs to run, but he can't.

More importantly, he wants Felicity. But Felicity isn’t here, and she’s not anywhere close, because otherwise she would have come running.

The archer expects Diggle to continue touching him, to shake him roughly and ask what's wrong, but to his surprise, the human immediately backs off and steps back, hands coming up in the surrender position, while looking incredibly concerned and worried.

"Oliver?" The human asks lowly, keeping his voice soft and friendly. When the archer doesn't reply, Diggle continues, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted. Are you okay?"

"I - I don't know."

He truly doesn't. He keeps his eyes down and fixed on the floor and heaves himself upwards against the wall. It's only then that he becomes aware of all his self-inflicted injuries and he lets out a small moan. But Oliver doesn't mind, because pain is better than fear in his opinion.

He keeps his back to the wall and doesn't meet Diggle's concerned eyes as he slips along it towards the empty space by the large bay windows of the bedroom, beginning his pacing once again. The human watches him carefully, staying a short distance away as not to spook him; he looks like he wants to intervene, but is fighting himself internally. Oliver catches sight of Tommy stepping into the room, speaking quietly to Walter and Moira behind him. His mother looks pale with worry, but she nods, and closes the door. Obviously, Tommy made some sort of comment to them about him needing some space and privacy.

"Caitlin’s on a call to a surgeon, looking into getting the tracker chip removed,” Tommy says. “But I could go and get her if you want.”

“We shouldn’t interrupt her if she’s busy,” Diggle responds. He turns his piercing gaze back onto the Bellator, questioning, “Do you want me to call Felicity? She’s with Cisco at the STAR Labs facility here in Starling, but she could get back here in twenty minutes or -”

"No," Oliver cuts in, his voice dead. He does want Diggle to call her - of course, he wants his mate here with him. Felicity is the light in the darkness, and he knows that her presence will banish that of the lingering nightmare, but he doesn't want her to see him like this. Internally he knows that Felicity won’t judge him at all, but knowing what he just did, trying to hurt himself because Felicity wasn’t there and he couldn’t cope, he knows that if she finds out, she’ll be disappointed in him.

The two humans both startle and exchange suspicious glances. Diggle narrows his eyes, shifting a little closer. Oliver turns away and closes his eyes, mentally cursing himself.

"You always want Felicity," Diggle says lowly. "Oliver, what's going on?" 

"Nothing," he insists.

Tommy shakes his head. "We don’t believe you.”

The archer bares his teeth defensively and snarls, tensed. He resumes his pacing, the only sounds in the bedroom being his heavy footsteps and breathing. Tommy’s right not to believe him - Oliver desperately wants Felicity. He needs here like he needs air, or at least, that’s what it feels like. There’s been a crushing pain in his chest ever since his mate left, and he wants her back here, he wants to be back in her arms, breathing in her scent.

He wants Felicity back so that his terror from the nightmare, the memory, can go away. Once Oliver's fear once again overtakes the pain that fades, he is struck by panic and runs towards the wall again.

Diggle and Tommy seem to realise seconds before he slams himself into the wall what he is doing, and both of the humans leap forwards, wrapping their arms around Oliver's waist and yanking him back. The archer cries out, desperately needing the pain so he doesn't have to feel the terror and he thrashes, snarls erupting from his throat. The humans release him and Oliver sprawls to the ground.

“Tommy, call Felicity!” Diggle shouts, and Tommy falls back against the wall, running out of the room as he yanks out his cell phone.

Oliver doesn’t care about Tommy leaving - what he does care about is Diggle, and the massive threat he now represents. _Humans = danger_ is pounding in his blood, burning through his arteries, and he needs protection, he needs to be able to defend himself. The archer lunges for his bow and quiver where they're being stored on the counter, or for some fletchettes from his arrow stand, but Diggle catches his wrist. With a strangled yelp, Oliver swings out his legs to knock the human's legs out from under him - but instead of Diggle falling backwards, he jumps the legs and grabs Oliver's arms, forcing him up so he's pressed hard against the wall, arms locked behind him.

_They never let him move. They kept him strapped down and immobilised so they could do whatever they wanted to him. So they could make him scream._

"Calm down," Diggle grits out, as the archer fights his hold, panicking at the thought of being pinned, helpless, up against the wall. "Oliver, calm down!" Oliver stills, wheezing. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Calm down. I'll let you go, alright, just nod for me that you're not going to freak out." Oliver nods. "Good. Okay. I'm going to step back now."

Slowly, the human releases him, loosening his hold on Oliver's arms and letting him come away from the wall. As soon as his hands fall away, Diggle puts them up and crosses the room so he's on the opposite side to Oliver, clearly realising that he needs his space. With the bed between them, Oliver is able to breathe again. There’s safety in distance.

"T-thank you," Oliver stutters, relieved to have been released, crossing his arms across his chest tightly, partially to make him feel secure and partially to try and contain his shaking. "For letting me go."

"What, did you not expect me to?"

" _They_ never did." Oliver can't contain it anymore. He needs to get it out, get it off his chest. Felicity isn’t here, and this is his best option to get it out, out of his head and into the open because he can’t contain it anymore. This nightmare won't go away until he tells somebody about it, shares his burdens. Diggle is the perfect human to do that to - he's a simple observer who doesn't judge him. " _They_ kept me caged or tied up all the time," he croaks. " _They_ drugged me and injected me and if I didn't stop screaming, _they_ shocked me with one of those...cattle prod things." 

Diggle looks stunned. "Oliver..."

He shudders and now he's started, he can't stop. " _They_ knocked me out with drugs and then when I was asleep _they_ cut into me and did things to me that I didn't understand and when I woke up, I screamed again because it hurt, it hurt so much, and _they_ shocked me again until I passed out."

He starts crying. “ _They_ treated me like I was some dumb, broken animal, like I was their dog, _they_ stroked me and petted me and rewarded me when I was compliant and hit me when I spoke or was out of line. They tortured me and experimented on me and _they_ enjoyed it, _they_ liked doing it, _they liked treating me like a worthless pet and I can’t – I just can’t -”_

There's a short moment when only Oliver's harsh breathing can he heard, and then the archer shrinks back against the wall in horror; he can't believe he said all of that, got all of that out, and of all the people he told Diggle. Whimpering, he ducks his head down into his chest and curls up as tight as he can, beginning to cry.

“It’s okay,” Diggle whispers, coming forwards very slowly as if he’s drawing nearer to a spooked wild animal. “Shh, Oliver, it’s okay. Can I touch your shoulder?” The Bellator shakes his head, sniffing. “Okay, that’s alright. I’m just gonna sit down next to you, is that okay?”

Hesitant, Oliver nods slowly. Diggle slips down the wall to sit against the wall around a metre away from him. The human’s gaze is so worried, as if he expects Oliver to break any moment. The fact that the archer flinches so violently at the three soft knocks on the bedroom door proves that Diggle’s concerns are very real. Tommy ducks inside quietly, and catching sight of the Bellator, his expression crumples into one of sadness. Pulling a blanket off the bed, Tommy comes up to Oliver very carefully and, making sure there is no contact between them, tucks the blanket around him.

As soon as Tommy draws back, giving Oliver more space, the archer pulls the blanket tighter around him, still sniffling into his knees.

“Felicity’s going to be here soon,” Tommy whispers. “You’re going to be fine, Oliver, I promise.” When Oliver refuses to reply, the human turns to the other and asks softly, “A nightmare?”

“A pretty awful one,” Diggle replies quietly. “A memory, I’m guessing.”

“Do we tell Felicity about…” Tommy trails off, obviously not knowing exactly what to call Oliver’s sudden bout of self harm when he was throwing himself into the wall. Because that’s what it was, the Bellator realises. He was trying to hurt himself, and he still wants to feel pain now, because at least if he feels pain, he doesn’t feel fear. Fear is much worse.

Diggle shakes his head, his gaze gentle as his eyes sweep over Oliver’s curled up form sympathetically. “She needs to know.”

“Can’t he get a break?” Tommy’s own voice cracks now, as he slides down the wall next to Diggle, pulling his knees up. “He’s been through so much, and it’s like just when we think the pain’s going to end for him, and it’ll be okay, something else awful happens. Can’t the universe just leave him alone?”

“I know, Tommy. If anybody deserves a vacation, it’s Oliver.”

There’s another gentle knock on the door, and Oliver’s head whips around, his eyes glittering as a growl pools in his throat. Tommy shushes him tenderly as Diggle stands to answer and open it, but the Bellator ignores the human, a steady, wary rumble being produced.

Oliver was expecting Caitlin, Lance or Laurel to come in, maybe Felicity, although that would be too soon, since it’ll take her a while to get here, but instead, it’s Thea. His sister is very cautious and nervous, he can see by her posture and the fidgeting of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Thea says softly. “Is this a bad time?”

“It kind of is,” Diggle admits.

“Mom and Walter said that Oliver had a nightmare,” she whispers. “And, um, well, back when we were younger, we, uh, we used to make each other hot cocoa if one of us had one… with little animal marshmellows. So, I, um, I thought that maybe…” The mug she’s holding in her hands is clearly visible, and with a sigh, Diggle allows her to slip inside, into the cool, dark bedroom.

Thea’s eyes bore into him like lasers. It’s sort of impossible for Oliver to curl up even tighter, so he twists his body away slightly, his rapid heartbeat audible in his ears. The fresh memory of Thea punching him, the sharp bite of pain she caused, lingers on the fringes of his mind, and he makes a low, instinctive call for his mate, calling for Felicity to come and protect him in his vulnerable state. But Felicity isn’t here to come to his rescue.

“What happened to him?” Thea questions, her voice breaking.

“Nightmare,” Diggle replies. “Really bad one. Memories of when he was experimented on and tortured come through in them. Whatever he remembered tonight must have been a pretty rough ride for him.”

“Can I go talk to him?”

Diggle casts a loaded look towards Tommy, answering, “I don’t know if now is the best time.”

“I won’t upset him,” Thea whispers.

“You kinda already did, when you punched him earlier,” Tommy says. When Thea shoots him a glare, he raises his hands in surrender. “Just saying.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“To be honest, Thea, it’s not really how you’ll be treating him that I’m worried about,” Diggle sighs. “He’s stuck in a wild head space at the moment where he sees humans as threats, and who can blame him after everything those monsters did to him. He might accidentally hurt you.”

“Please at least let me try.”

Diggle looks at Tommy. Tommy shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

Seeing that as permission, Thea begins to approach the archer, her footsteps light and body crouched low, to make herself seem less of a threat. Oliver, however, knows exactly what kind of force and harm she can cause, and makes a keening, scared sort of sound, pressing himself into the wall as if by some sort of miracle, it’ll be able to swallow him up and make him vanish. Diggle and Tommy walk around and sit on the bed as Thea sits cross legged about half a metre from the Bellator, placing the hot cocoa in the middle ground between them.

Oliver watches every single one of Thea’s movements with gleaming cobalt eyes, his chest jerking a little due to his stuttered breathing, something that had remained since his panic attack.

“Hi, Ollie,” Thea murmurs, with a weak smile. “That’s what I used to call you - Ollie. It was my nickname for you. Do you remember mine?”

Oliver quickly glances over at Tommy, and when the human gives him an encouraging nod and smile, he croaks out quietly in response, “Speedy.”

There are obvious tears in Thea’s eyes as she nods. “Right. I, um, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier. I shouldn’t have punched you. That - that was mean. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just felt angry because I didn’t understand why you hadn’t come to see Mom and I earlier, ya know? But I realise now that it was wrong of me to react that way and say those things. I don’t blame you for any of that.” She pauses, shaking herself. “Anyway, I, um, I brought you up some hot cocoa, because… well. I used to get nightmares when I was a kid, and you always made cocoa with marshmellows for me to make me feel better.”

It’s a peace offering. An obvious attempt at a truce. Thea’s expression is warm and sympathetic, not an inch of hostility there anymore. Oliver has always found it hard to trust humans, especially those that have harmed him, but Thea is so kind, trying to make amends, that he has to try and make a response to her. After all, this is Oliver Queen’s little sister, his little sister. From what he can remember, he has nothing but feelings of love and fondness towards her.

Slowly, he extends a hand to grab the mug. Thea doesn’t make a move to stop him. Lifting it to his lips, he tests for poison. It’s okay. In fact, it tastes great, and the warmth it provides is uplifting. Oliver drinks about half the mug, blinking down at the melting little elephant, cat and dog shaped marshmellows, before handing it back to her.

“Drink,” he tells her.

“I made it for you,” Thea says, confused.

“It’s a trust thing, Thea,” Tommy responds. “Drink the damn cocoa.”

Swallowing, Thea drains the rest of the mug. Oliver massively relaxes, finally releasing the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding for the entire time his sister drank the remains of the cocoa. He loosens his hold on the blankets and reaches a hand out to her. Startled for a second, Thea takes it, obediently coming closer when Oliver pulls her towards him, until she’s sitting beside him. Then, with great wariness, the Bellator leans into her side and sets his head resting on her shoulder, purring softly. Instantly relaxing, Thea smiles and turns slightly so she can wrap her arms around Oliver’s form and hug him to her. Out of the corner of his eye, the Bellator can see Diggle and Tommy exhaling in relief.

After around ten minutes or so, cuddled up next to his sister, Oliver’s head shoots up as the random, spontaneous loud thought of FELICITY blares through his mind. He struggles to his feet, Thea making a questioning noise, as the Bellator heads towards the bedroom door, something instinctive telling him to get downstairs.

“Oliver?” Diggle questions warily, stepping in front of his just in time to shut the door, trapping the archer inside.

“Felicity,” is all Oliver offers as an explanation, shouldering past the human.

Felicity is, indeed, just arriving, entering through the front door at the same time Oliver is half way down the stairs. Without even greeting each other, Oliver throws himself at her, and his mate catches him easily, having expected this, although neither of them knew when Felicity was going to arrive or what was going to happen. A deep, feral purr erupts from his throat as he nuzzles into her neck, taking in her soothing scent of vanilla, honey and lavender. One of Felicity’s hands settles on his lower back whilst the other lands on his shoulder blade, making sure they’re secure against each other.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“You’re back,” he sighs.

“Only because something happened,” Felicity says worriedly, pulling back to frame his face and check over him meticulously. “What happened?” When Diggle and Tommy appear at the top of the stairs, she wheels around and hisses at them. “What happened?”

“I think we need to have a talk about your mate and his self-destructive tendencies,” is all Diggle says.

“What?” Felicity growled deeply, turning her sharp gaze onto Oliver so that he shrinks back.

“He had a nightmare,” Tommy relays. “Started screaming so loudly he woke up the entire house. Well, most of us were still awake anyway, it’s only nine pm. Anyway, Dig and I walked in on him slamming himself into the wall. Repeatedly.”

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever seen Felicity so angry. “Oliver,” she rumbled, bearing down on him until he’s very slightly crouched beneath her, so that she has the height. “Trying to hurt yourself because you were scared of a nightmare is very bad. Hurting yourself purposefully at any point is bad. I understand that you were frightened, and you were feeling a lot of negative things, but there was no need for you to do that. I am your mate, and I’m meant to help you with these sort of things. You could have just called me and I would have come back.”

“He didn’t want us to call you,” Diggle adds to the fire.

Seeing Felicity’s furious expression, Oliver hurriedly whimpers and says meekly, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you apologising because you did it, or apologising because you were caught?” Felicity says darkly. She helps him back to his feet with one hand placed on his arm just above his elbow, and forces him to look directly in her eyes as she tells him, “We are going to talk about this.”

“Okay,” he whispers, lowering his gaze submissively.

Felicity lifts his chin up with a single finger, and her anger has softened slightly now, leaving only concern. “I’m only angry at you, Oliver, because I know you knew you could have called me to fix this. You didn’t need to hurt yourself like this, but you did.”

“I’m really sorry,” he mumbles.

“Come on,” Felicity sighs, wrapping her arm around his waist supportively. “Let’s get back to the bedroom and talk.” Oliver tries to duck his head under her chin and purr into her collarbone, but she pushes him away. “No, Oliver, you’re not distracting me with cuddling to get out of this. We need to have this discussion about keeping yourself healthy and safe when I’m not here for you.”

Thea appears in between Diggle and Tommy on the staircase, calling down to Felicity, “I asked Raisa to change the sheets in Ollie’s bedroom, they were kinda sweaty and torn up. You can use the living room if you want.”

Felicity bares her teeth at Thea, about to snarl as she pulls Oliver tightly into her arms. It’s a protective response, his mate seeing Thea as a threat to him, except he and Thea are fine now, so Oliver rumbles comfortingly back, murmuring, “We’re okay. She came and apologised, we’re okay now.”

Felicity nods sharply. “Thank you, Thea,” she offers shortly. She jolts her head at Tommy and Diggle. “You two. Down here. We’re having this discussion now.”

“Yes, boss,” Tommy says cheerfully, quickly descending the stairs to lead the way into the living room. Diggle follows behind him, looking amused.

“Hmm, boss.” Felicity nods appreciatively, her hand on Oliver’s back as they enter the living room and began taking their seats. “Keep up the flattery, Thomas, and I might just let you off easy for not keeping an eye on Oliver whilst I was gone.”

Tommy waggles his eyebrows. “Really?”

“No. Sit down.”

“Yes, boss.”

* * *


	19. The Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys :) New chapter time!! Now, this chapter is short, but it still kinda ran away from me. Things happened that I didn't plan, but... well, ya know, you write what you write.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Game for the comments this chapter: Your best theory for the fic so far.
> 
> ( **Trigger Warning** : Discussion of PTSD, anxiety and self-harm. Discussion of pregnancy)

Settling down on the couches within the Queen mansion’s sitting room, Oliver curls his legs onto the cushions and wraps his arms around his stomach in order to try and retain some warmth. Instead of turning the lights on, Diggle just switches on one of the lamp shades at the back of the room, so a steady glow spreads over them, basking them in enough light that the humans can see, but not enough to hurt their eyes. Felicity somehow manages to find a blanket and she gently lays it on top of the Bellator before squeezing up beside him.

Oliver rumbles deep in his throat as he rests his head on his mate’s shoulder. He can’t help but wince. Unfortunately, the consequence of throwing himself into the wall repeatedly, is bruises. Many, many bruises.

Thea hadn’t followed them originally into the living room, and when she appears again, she has two ice packs in her hand and a t-shirt for Oliver to wear. Felicity takes them from her with a grateful look, helping the Bellator into the shirt and then she presses them onto Oliver’s bare chest. The sudden coldness makes his bruises throb and causes him to shiver with a small growl, but he buries his head into the crook of Felicity’s neck again to calm himself with her scent.

“Does it hurt?” Felicity questions.

“Yeah, it - it stings,” he mutters.

“Good,” Felicity responds stiffly, her hand running through his hair. “That’s what happens when you ram yourself into a wall.”

“I really am sorry,” he offers.

“I know,” she sighs.

Diggle, Tommy and Thea hesitantly take seats around the room, watching the two of them curiously. “So,” Diggle starts seriously. “We need to talk about Oliver’s somewhat self-destructive tendencies.”

“I’m not self-destructive,” he argues, but the archer doesn’t say anything after that. He knows it would be useless. After everything that’s happened, he can’t deny that he is a little self-destructive. He shakes his head, murmuring quietly, “I was just scared.”

“It was fear that prompted you to hurt yourself then,” Tommy says, nodding. “It makes sense. Bellators are a warrior species, built on courage and strength, and any sort of vulnerability would cause panic.”

“Wow, Tommy,” Thea replies, a teasing grin quirking her lips upward. “That actually sounded pretty smart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Point is,” Felicity interrupts, shooting them both stern looks, before turning back to Oliver with her gaze softening, “You can’t keep doing this, Oliver. Hurting yourself when you feel even an ounce of fear. It’s not a good coping technique. And as your mate, I can’t stand by and allow you to do these things to yourself.”

“It won’t happen again.” He refuses to meet any of their eyes.

“You can’t promise that,” Diggle shakes his head. He sets his eyes on Felicity, and there’s grim emotion shining in them, a sort of pity and sympathy that Oliver has never wanted, nor needed. “Felicity, I think we need to consider the possibility that Oliver has some mental issues that need to be addressed. You didn’t see what he was like when he was throwing himself into the walls - he was completely terrified. It was like he’d gone feral. As long as he struggles to process fear like that, preferring pain… it sounds awful, but he’s going to be on the edge of suicidal for the rest of his life.”

“His memories are coming back to him in violent flashbacks and night terrors,” Felicity agrees gravely. “And he’s been having severe panic attacks. It wouldn’t be much of a large leap to presume he has chronic post traumatic stress disorder, maybe an anxiety disorder of some kind.”

The look of horror passing over Thea’s face makes the archer cringe. “But PTSD - that’s forever,” she whispers. “You mean Ollie’s going to be like this for the rest of his life?”

“Thea, no,” Diggle tries to assure her. “There’s therapy, and with a solid support system like our team, his PTSD won’t go away, but Oliver will get better at coping, we’ll make sure of that.”

Everything that Diggle’s saying is going over the Bellator’s head. PTSD? Trauma? He can’t comprehend that. It’s too much for his mind to process. So Oliver just sits and tunes them out as they continue going on about therapies and how they can help and such, his head resting on Felicity’s shoulder as he chuffs to repeatedly claim and call her to him, getting used to the idea of having a mate to call to in the first place.

It’s at that point that footsteps in the hallway startle Oliver out of his musings and the archer bites out a fierce growl, clutching Felicity tightly to his side in a possessive response, every instinct screaming at him to protect her. Felicity rolls her eyes but accepts it, fingers dancing along the back of his neck, and the Bellator only relaxes once the intruder reveals herself; Caitlin, still dressed in her day clothes with her cell phone in her hand, appearing exhausted.

“What’s going on?” she questions tiredly. “Oliver, do you feel ill?” She tries to walk over to check his temperature, most likely, but Diggle rises and catches her arm, shooting her a pointed look that conveys that it would be a bad idea to approach the Bellator and his mate. She obviously understands, because Caitlin just sighs and asks firmly, “What happened?”

Thea and Tommy explain quietly. Caitlin’s eyes harden with every sentence, but there is also a deep sympathy there that makes Oliver want to squirm. “I should check your ribs,” the doctor says. “You might have bruised them - or cracked them. But that can wait.” She pulls a notepad out of her jacket and begins flipping through the pages. “The results of your blood work came back, Oliver, and I spoke with one of my friends, who’s a surgeon at Central City General. The good news is that you’re completely clear of Laurel’s DNA and the hormones that were in that injection, which means that we can start planning the procedure to get the tracker chip out.”

“If you have to define that as good news,” Tommy says solemnly, “Then there has to be bad news.”

Caitlin grimaces. “I just got a call from Price,” she explains lowly, her eyes darting between Oliver and Felicity and the rest of the group. “She knows that Oliver is here, and… she’s angry. But she doesn’t want to call the police on us or alert the public to the fact that the Starling Bellator is now out of conservation control. She wants to arrange a meeting on neutral ground to have some discussions.”

Another deep growl erupts from Oliver’s throat. “No.”

“I told her you wouldn’t be happy with that idea,” Caitlin’s lips quirk in a small smile. “But I actually think Price unknowingly gave us our trump card.”

Diggle tilts his head, questioning, “What do you mean?”

“Price doesn’t want to go public,” Caitlin says. “She wants to keep the media, police and courts out of this. She doesn’t want to attract any attention. Obviously, she doesn’t think that the conservation have enough ground to take Oliver from us and his family.” She glances around at everybody, confidently telling them, “I think we’ve got to announce Oliver’s identity. We’ve got to tell the world that the Starling City Bellator is Oliver Queen, and broadcast his story. We have to let people know what was done to him, what the conservation was doing to him. As long as we have the public on our side… I don’t see how Price and the conservation will be able to get to him again.”

Diggle looks surprised, but he’s nodding in agreement. “You know, it might actually work.”

“We should talk to Mom and Walter about it,” Thea suggests, her eyes shining with excitement. She’s obviously on board with the plan as well. “They could have the QC PR department manage it all, Oliver would only have to make a few appearances and say a few words at some events alongside our family, and if Laurel signs on as his lawyer -”

“As long as Oliver is comfortable with all of this,” Felicity interrupts sternly. She rubs her hand over his back as she turns back to the archer, and the softness and worry in his voice sends affection washing through the archer, “Are you okay with this? Going out into the public eye, being shoved into the media spotlight… it won’t be easy.”

Oliver ducks his head, thinking. She’s right. Privacy and security are massively important things to him, and both of those will be threatened if they go to the press. He hates the idea of being watched and paraded around like a show pony. For some reason, just the sheer idea of being shown off to people makes him feel as if he wants to vomit, as if it’s happened before and he just can’t remember it. But he can’t deny that it’s a very good plan. Price won’t be able to touch a hair on his head if the media is turned their way. “Let me think about it,” he responds quietly. “Can I make my decision in the morning?”

“You don’t have to decide anything yet,” Caitlin assures. “We can talk to Moira, Walter, Lance and Laurel first if you’d prefer to hear what they have to say about it.”

That sounds like a good idea. Lance has always looked out for him, and he’s shown the Bellator that he cares about him a lot. Laurel is angry at the conservation for violating them both, and also cares about him, but she’s also bound to have some legal advice. Moira and Walter are… they’re Oliver Queen’s parents. They’ve got experience in the media spotlight, and they’ll have propositions for them. “I think I’d prefer that.”

“Great,” Caitlin smiles.

Tommy stands and stretches, yawning. “Man, I’m beat. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna turn in.”

“Me too,” Diggle agrees. “I have to relieve Lyla from her shift at three am, so I should probably get some shut-eye.”

“All of you look tired,” Felicity says. “You should all really be getting some sleep.”

Thea, Tommy and Diggle all murmur their goodnights, brushing past Oliver and Felicity, their hands hesitant and gentle as they touch the Bellator’s shoulder and pat his knee. He can’t help but tense in Felicity’s arm, those memories of being treated like a pet still fresh on his mind. It’s only once Felicity and Oliver are alone in the room with Caitlin that the doctor moves towards them and take a seat directly in front of them, perching on the coffee table. Oliver can sense a nervous energy about her, one that hadn’t been evident before, and it makes him shift and frown at her in concern. He can tell Felicity can discern the doctor’s anxiety as well.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of the others,” Caitlin says. “But there was an abnormality in your blood work. You have a very high level of Human Chorionic Gonadotropin hormone circulating around your body.” She inhales with a shudder. “It’s a pregnancy hormone. And… I don’t think it’s left-over HCG from the injection.”

Felicity raises one of her hands to rub at the bridge of her nose as she murmurs, “You’re saying Oliver’s producing the hormone himself.”

“Yes.”

The Bellator would have to be stupid to not recognise what this means. His throat begins thickening and he starts shaking uncontrollably as this revelation sweeps through him, stunning and shocking him. “You’re saying I’m pregnant?” Oliver chokes out.

Caitlin sighs. “Yes, there’s a possibility. In a few days time, we’ll need to do some more blood work, do a few other tests and take an ultrasound, to allow further development so there’s a higher chance we’ll be able to detect, but… yes, Oliver, you are essentially pregnant. Price’s plan to trigger your self-impregnation - it worked. We can only hope that it occurred after Laurel’s DNA was cleared from your system.” Looking between the two mates, she offers quietly, “I’ll leave you two alone so you can process and maybe talk. Okay? This is a big step for the two of you and it’ll take a lot of mental preparation.”

It definitely is going to take a while to get this through his head. Oliver can’t seem to force himself to speak. He’s in a state of shock. Luckily, his mate seems to realise this and answers on his behalf. “Thank you, Caitlin,” Felicity nods.

Smiling weakly at the pair, the doctor nods and takes her exit, leaving the mates alone in the living room, curled up around each other on the Queen family’s couch. They sit in silence for a few moments, breathing heavily and not meeting each other’s eyes. Oliver is just trying to understand what Caitlin has just told them both - that there is a high possibility that the Bellator is now pregnant, carrying a Bellator child. He finds it almost impossible to believe.

But then, there’s an awful, terrifying part of his mind, miniscule and small but still present, which tells him that what he’s feeling, that fear and shock… he’s felt it before. He’s experienced this kind of thing before. It’s confusing, and it confounds him to why he’s feeling this deja vu.

Felicity draws him from his thoughts, by asking cautiously, “Oliver?”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Just trying to… get a grasp on this.” Shaking his head before he rests his forehead down on his mate’s shoulder, he mumbles into Felicity’s shirt, “I might be pregnant. And… I don’t know how I’m meant to feel.”

“We don’t know for sure yet, hun,” Felicity adjusts the blanket over him, but she seems wary of touching him now, strangely.

Swallowing, Oliver tries to reassure her that he’s fine with her touch by arching his head into her neck and purring gently. “Caitlin said -”

“She’ll do the tests in a few days time and then we’ll start talking about a baby properly, okay?” Felicity asks hurriedly, cutting in with a strange expression on her face. It just dawns on Oliver then that this is his mate he’s speaking to - if he’s having a baby, it’s her baby too. And she needs time to process as well.

“Do we tell the others?”

“Do you want to tell the others?”

“... No. Not until we’re sure.” He knows that Diggle, Tommy and Lance will be nothing but supportive, but Laurel, Thea, Moira and Walter are mysteries to him. Laurel would probably congratulate him or punch him, but since he’s only known Oliver Queen’s family for… well, less than a day, essentially, he doesn’t know how they will react or feel about this.

“Alright then. We don’t tell the others. It may sound irresponsible, but we don’t do anything until Caitlin’s confirmed it. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

At that point, Oliver decides to change the subject - to one that is possibly even heavier than his potential pregnancy. He can’t keep secrets from Felicity any longer. Lying to his mate, withholding information from her when they’re meant to be life partners, trusting each other in everything, feels so wrong. She’s already given so much, sacrificed so much, in order to help him and be by his side. He can do this.

He can tell her about Sara.

“I need to tell you something,” he mumbles into her neck, a small, nervous whine escaping his throat afterwards.

Her hand comes up to cradle the back of his head as Felicity chitters worriedly. “Tell me what?”

“Not here,” Oliver whispers. “Can we go upstairs? In our room?”

“Sure,” she replies softly. “We can do that.”

They head upstairs hand in hand, Felicity leading just in front. Oliver very briefly catches the disturbing sight of an exhausted Lance only in his boxer briefs peering out of his bedroom door in the corridor with a confused look, before his head vanishes inside, just as they enter their shared bedroom. The room has been tied and the sheets have been replaced; before, whilst the room had smelt strongly of fear pheromones, it stinks of orange blossom and vanilla, making Oliver wrinkle his nose.

“Strip your shirt off,” Felicity orders, pushing him to sit down on the bed, which makes the Bellator freeze in bemusement. Realising what it just sounded like she was saying, Felicity blushes a deep red and swiftly hurries to add, “I’ll rub some arnica gel into your chest before you start bruising.” Her eyes slam shut. “That didn’t sound any better.” Glaring at him as he chuckles softly, she just swats his arm, walking off into the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit as she mutters, “Shut up.”

She comes back with the arnica gel in hand just as Oliver’s pulling his shirt off, wincing at the movement. He sits silently, stock still on the bed with his legs hanging off it, as Felicity hesitantly dabs the cold gel onto his chest, which due to his accelerated healing, is already starting to show bruises. He watches her shifting expressions as she rubs the gel in. She’s concentrating on her actions, but she’s already simultaneously biting her lip and trying to avert her eyes from his bare scarred chest. It’s only when he shivers at her touch when she brushes her fingers against a particularly sensitive spot that her breath hitches. A weird kind of pride causes him to preen, buffing his chest out and raising his chin, gazing down at her with a fondness.

“What is it you want to tell me?” she murmurs, blue eyes darting upwards for a millisecond so their gazes clash before she pops the cap back onto the gel’s tube and begins putting it away.

“I’m remembering things,” he informs her warily, chewing on his lip as Felicity crosses the room to tuck the first aid kit under the desk. “Things about… _that place._ ”

“I know that,” she replies, sounding confused.

“You don’t know specifically what I’ve been remembering,” Oliver responds. “Usually it’s awful. I remember the experimentation or the torture… but sometimes it’s not that.” He glances down at his hands, clenching them into fists before releasing them as he adds, “Sometimes it’s not… bad.”

There must be a tell in his voice, because Felicity goes still and turns to face him, and coming back towards him, she has a look of comprehension plastered on her face. “You remember good things.”

“They’re not _good_ , I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. But they’re not… terrible.” Oliver forces himself to exhale in order to calm himself before he admits, rasping, “I had friends there. I had… a pack. And recently I’ve been remembering them a lot.”

Felicity nods for him to continue, taking a seat beside him so their elbows bump, and he pushes onwards. “When I was first captured there, I was put in a cage on my own. The procedures started and it was… horrible. The pain was overwhelming. After them I could barely function. They put me back in my cage and every day was a repeat. Except then one day they put me in a group cell… with them. Everything changed.”

Felicity’s hand very cautiously settles on his knee as she questions softly, “Slade and Shado?”

He rears his head back in surprise, blinking at her. “How’d you know that?” he asked urgently, heartbeat increasing.

Felicity chuckles, flashing him a smile. “You talk in your sleep.”

“I do?” he asked incredulously.

“A lot,” Felicity laughs.

He laughs as well, but shortly, and he quickly sobers, realising that he’s reached the point where he has to make the difficult admittance. “It wasn’t just Slade and Shado in my pack. There was… somebody else.”

His mate’s eyebrow quirks upwards. “Oh?”

“... Sara.”

“Sara,” Felicity repeats, her eyes slowly widening as she comes to a realisation, jaw half dropping in shock. “Sara as in _Sara Lance?_ The detective’s daughter? Laurel’s sister? The girl Ollie Queen snuck onto the Gambit? She survived the sinking?”

“Yes,” Oliver swallows. “She was… _there_. Being transformed into a Bellator. Like Slade and Shado. Like me. Like all the prisoners there were. We became a pack, we all helped and cared for each other after the procedures, made sure that we were all mentally and physically healthy. They were like a family to me.”

“Were,” Felicity breathes. “Something happened… to them?”

“I don’t know.” His head falls, chin resting on his chest. “Where I’m up to in remembering… all the memories seem to be coming back in chronological order, they’re never random or unorganised. The last time I saw them in my memories…” It’s hard, for him to talk about this aloud. But this is Felicity. His mate. His life partner. He can trust her. “ _They_ , the scientists there, they always said I was their favourite subject because I could take more of the injections than anybody else. The injections, they were how they turned us… they contained some sort of DNA-altering, de-constructing compound. As a result, they caused extreme pain. Due to my time on the island before I was captured, going through so much torture, I had a high pain threshold and, well… I was stubborn. I could take a lot of pain. They were speeding up the procedures on me, eager to complete my transformation and…” He laughs bitterly. “It was killing me, is the only way I can put it. I was dying. Slade and Shado realised that the only way they could get the scientists to slow down was to incapacitate me in some way, make it so they couldn’t risk giving me the injections… so they broke my arm. I was taken off into the medical facility until my arm healed. That was the last time I saw Slade, Shado and Sara. At least, the last time I’ve seen them so far.”

“Oh, Oliver…” Felicity looks so upset for him, tears in her eyes and her arm anchoring them waist to waist, trying to purr to comfort him.

“I didn’t want to say anything to Lance or Laurel or really anybody, in case… ya know, Sara didn’t survive,” he chokes out. “But I can’t keep it from you, Felicity. I’m sorry I’ve been withholding truths from you.”

“It’s alright,” she soothes, lifting his chin so they can stare into each other’s eyes, and Oliver instantly relaxes his tensed shoulders upon seeing such support and empathy within them. “You’ve told me now. I think you’re right, we can’t tell anybody about Sara until you know for sure what happened to her. But thank you, Oliver, for telling me. You’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you for feeling like you could trust me enough to tell me.”

“Felicity, I trust you with my life,” he replies honestly.

For a second, she looks honestly taken back. But then she smiles and takes his hand, squeezing it as she responds, “I trust you too.”

Hearing this just makes his heart swell, and spontaneously he begins purring again.

“Your mom doesn’t like me very much, by the way,” Felicity mumbles, bumping his side. “And she doesn’t like the thought of us being mates.”

“She just doesn’t understand,” Oliver scowls.

“I’m just afraid she might try and separate us,” she sighs. “Price has already tried that… I don’t want that to happen again.”

The Bellator unleashes a deep growl. “She’s _not_ separating us,” he says fiercely. “She might be Oliver Queen’s mother, but she doesn’t get a say in our relationship.”

Felicity stiffens instantly. “Our relationship?” she murmurs.

He twitches nervously. The archer doesn’t know what to say now. He’s not sure how Felicity is going to react, or what she’d think of him being possessive over her, claiming her as his mate to the others. She’s not the type of girl who’d let herself be defined by a guy.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Our – our relationship. We’re mates. There’s a possibility that I’m pregnant so… we could be having a child. We – we could say that, right?” Felicity keeps staring at him, so he backtracks, “Or not, I mean. I just thought that since we’ve grown closer, that we could… never mind. Forget it.”

“We have grown closer,” his mate agrees. “I haven’t really thought about how we’d define… whatever this is.”

Oliver knots his fingers together awkwardly. “Because… this is something.”

She seems to stop breathing for a moment, gazing at him tenderly. The compassion and kindness in her beautiful blue eyes makes something twist inside of him. And all of a sudden, his self-control wanes. He draws closer to her, and instinctively she does as well, until they’re literally inches away from each other’s faces. Breath catching in his throat, his eyes flicker down to her mouth and back up to her eyes.

All restraint disappearing, Oliver surges upwards, his arm wrapping around Felicity’s waist as he captures her lips with his and meets her in a bruising kiss.

* * *


	20. The Road to Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Oliver and Felicity blossoms. Within the flashbacks, the scientists mark an important milestone. The team breakfast with the Queen family takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this is such a long chapter. Like, 9000 words. I really went off on this one. Oh well. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to Geniewithwifi for cheerleading me through this! And thanks to Bushlaboo for always being so cheery and enthusiastic :) And a massive, massive thanks to Melsanfo, who basically coached me through writing the first scene, and then ended up half writing it and editing it for me. I love you guys so much. THANK YOU.
> 
> Game for comments this chapter: Favourite romance trope for Olicity.

* * *

Felicity doesn’t pull back from the kiss like Oliver’s expecting, though she does flinch ever so slightly. The action doesn’t quell his instinct to get closer to her, there is a fraction of a second of hesitance that flares in the back of his mind but she eases it, without knowing, when she seems to melt into their exchange, her lips softening as she relaxes into him, yielding.

Thrilled by her submission to him, the Bellator attempts to deepen the kiss, his arm tightening around her waist so he can shift their positions, flipping her onto her back, on top of the bed, with his body towering over hers. The manoeuvre is clumsy, however, and one of her knees ends up connecting directly with his groin, making him flinch and groan, yet his kiss doesn’t lose it’s potency. It stays hard and unrelenting against her lips. It’s a little bit awkward, he realizes, but he so desperately wants to get past that fact that he sees no other course but to continue.

Within Oliver’s chest there’s a deep, unknown yet enticing, feeling; like a flame flickering and flaring, setting him alight for what seems to be the first time ever, urging him to continue his actions. His calloused hands cradling and stroking his mate’s back gently, exploring her. The kiss ongoing. The clacking of their teeth has Felicity wincing beneath him but that doesn’t stop her own study of his body. His shirtlessness, from when Felicity so tenderly rubbed the arnica gel into his chest, allows his mate’s hands to wander up his bare torso, the warmth of her fingers on his skin making him growl into her lips. Need blooms inside him, like a flower, making him crave. More, he needs more of his mate but just as he’s decided to give into his craving and take the kiss further, Felicity breaks away with a haggard gasp, tilting her head away from his.

“Oliver,” she whispers, her voice raspy with emotion. “Oliver, we can’t -”

“Yes, we can,” he purrs, possessively. 

He tries to dart back to her lips, to kiss yet her again, the fire in his chest spreading, electrifying his senses to a delicious frenzy, but when his mate turns her face away he immediately pulls back. Trepidation slams into his chest and makes him pause. The million and one thoughts rushing through his head they conglomerate into a single entity, insecurity. A thrill of panic creeps down his spine, making him worry about why she would halt the kiss when they are both so obviously enjoying it. At least, he thought they were? Could he have been wrong about it? Had it been...bad? 

“What’s wrong?” he questions, concern colouring his tone of voice. 

He won’t force her into anything. That much is obvious. He would never hurt his mate like that. But this is what they both want. Isn’t it? Why is she pulling away?

“We can’t,” she sighs, shifting her gaze to his and her hand up to caress his cheek.

“Why not?” he asks, confused.

“Because - Oliver - we’re not -” She looked so adorably bemused about everything that’s going on. But then, he realises there’s something more serious going through her marvellous brain. Felicity closes her eyes and whimpers, her arm wrapping over her chest. “It hurts.”

His eyes widen at the admission. His mate’s in pain. He surges up to his knees and begins meticulously checking her over for injuries and sickness, and when he can’t find anything, he places a hand on his own chest, where the flame-hot feeling is coming from and questions, “Is it like fire? Right here?”

“Yes,” she whispers, grimacing. “You’re feeling it too?”

“Maybe I should get Caitlin.”

“No, I think it’s… It’s something to do with us being mates.” Felicity twists on the bed, to face him sitting up, and folds her legs, biting her lip in an attempt to mask her pain. Oliver’s hands brace her waist so she doesn’t fall forward, and panic strikes him deep when she almost collapses into his arms. “I think...this is like a… physical bond.”

“You’re in pain, I’m getting Caitlin,” Oliver insists.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fading,” she mutters. Chuckling darkly, her blue eyes meet Oliver’s again and there’s grim humour glimmering within them. “Figures. We finally kiss and we have to stop because it puts us both in pain. Not to mention all of your bruises, they can’t feel too good right about now.”

The archer chews on the inside of his cheek, suggesting in a husky voice, “Maybe there are different depths to the mate bond?” he ventures. “We’ve already bonded mentally and emotionally, and by being… intimate, we’re finally bonding physically. Cementing it.”

“That makes sense,” she agrees. Felicity smiles, smirking, “Maybe we should continue cementing this bond.” Oliver shoots her an incredulous look. Shaking her head, Felicity collapses back down onto her back again, her eyes darkening as the Bellator hovers over her, licking her lips. “Okay, get down here, we’re kissing again.”

“It hurt you.”

“So we kiss, gently.” She grins shrewdly, moving her arm so it’s behind her head as she questions dryly, “Are you seriously protesting?”

Rolling his eyes, he murmurs, “Of course not,” and leans back down, swinging himself over her body so he’s braced on his hands and knees as he moves to press his lips onto hers.

However, due to Felicity leaning up to meet him, they end up butting foreheads and she falls away, rubbing her head as she groans. He wrinkles his nose and touches his own aching head, before trying to kiss her again, but she keeps her hand on his chest to force him to pause. 

“Oliver,” she says firmly. “Slow down.” He whines in protest, but his mate shakes her head at him, her tone calm and kind as she questions cautiously, “When was the last time you kissed somebody?”

His mind goes blank and he knows he’s growing distant, becoming less and less in touch with reality. In all honesty, Oliver can’t remember the last time he was intimate with somebody.

“Was it when you were Ollie Queen?” Felicity asks quietly, her fingers reaching up to brush across his cheek.

“I don’t remember,” he says hoarsely.

“That’s okay,” she immediately tries to comfort him, using her short nails to scratch at the short hair at the nape of his neck. “That’s perfectly alright, Oliver.”

“Are you... not enjoying yourself?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“No, I am,” she reassures softly. “But why don’t you let me lead? It might make things a bit less… hurt-y, okay?”

He nods at the idea, and Felicity smiles, gently pushing him over so he’s lying down instead of her and she’s poised above him, straddling his thighs. Very gently, her eyes shining bright, she leans in and begins their kiss again, but this time, it’s slower, as if she’s sipping fine wine from his lips and the passion behind the touch, even in its slowness, is so much more than Oliver could ever have anticipated a physical act to have. It’s almost as if her lips are caressing his very soul, softly attempting to put him back to rights, making a breathy moan escape his throat as she deepens their connection. 

Her mouth opening up a bit more, the tip of her wet tongue slithering against the seal of his lips, making him open up for her until their tongues are tangling together. Her taste was teasing his taste buds, making a low purr rattle his chest in appreciation. The thought that they are unashamedly making out fleets through his mind but it’s easily shoved away by the desire that flares through him. 

And even though he’s been close to his mate before, even though he’s aware that he finds his Felicity very attractive, this closeness is unlike anything they’ve ever done. It’s unlike anything he remembers feeling and his body reacts accordingly, his gym shorts tenting with his arousal. 

His mate doesn’t seem to mind his reaction and they remain lip-locked until they both have to pull away to take a gasp for air. As they breathe heavily, their faces only inches away from each other, Oliver fixes his gaze onto her glittering blue eyes and swollen lips, inwardly preening happily as he sees the red blush of her cheeks and her dilated pupils.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she whispers.

“What?”

“It’s too soon. We can’t have sex now.”

He almost whines. “Why not?” He hadn’t even realised before that making love with Felicity was something he even wanted. Before, it hadn’t been a priority or even an actual possibility, but now, seeing her so beautifully flushed and displayed under him, he _wants_ her.

“Firstly, because we may be mates, but we only just defined our relationship like five minutes ago,” Felicity reasons, sounding slightly exasperated yet amused. “And secondly, because our first time is _not_ going to be when there is just a door between us and our friends and your family.”

He grins mischievously, suggesting, “I could lock the door.”

“Oliver, I doubt these walls are soundproof,” she says. “And I don’t want us to traumatise anybody. Not now, okay?”

Grumbling, Oliver lets his head fall back into the pillow, away from her tempting lips and lies very still as she slides off of his body, shifting so she’s laying on her back, he switches so he’s on his side, facing her; his fingers playing with her blonde hair absentmindedly and nose buried into her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Don’t pout,” Felicity sighs.

“I’m not pouting,” he mumbles against her skin.

“Yes, you are, I can hear it in your voice.” She twists around onto her side so they’re lying facing each other, draping her arm across his waist in such a way that he relaxes, slipping his own arm over her hip and urging her closer to him. “I’m not trying to be mean.”

“I know, you’re being logical,” he murmurs. “I just hate your logic right now, for ruining the moment.”

His mate whacks his arm. “Hey!” she scowls at him, before arching one of her eyebrows. “We can still make out?” Felicity offers. 

He nods, smiling, ready to get back to the pleasurable exchange from before, arching his head towards her. Just at that moment, however, Oliver’s awful physiology decides that it’s time to force him to yawn, tiredly and directly into Felicity’s face. All romance dissolves entirely as the blonde shuts her eyes and half grimaces. He’s struck with momentary horror. Does his breath really smell that bad? To his relief, though, she doesn’t mention anything about that, and says, 

“Okay, you’re tired, we’re sleeping.”

“No, we’re kissing,” he tries, leaning forwards to try and brush his lips against hers once more - and being interrupted, yet again, by another yawn.

Rolling her eyes, his mate scoots back from him, causing him to make a sad little sound of disappointment. “Sleeping,” Felicity insists, sitting up and forcing him to stand so she can pull the duvet back before pushing him back down onto the bed, yanking the heavy blankets over his body. “We’re _sleeping_.”

He groans in annoyance.

Swatting his arm again, gently, she scolds him, “You’ve been sick and you’re bruised, Oliver. You need sleep to get better. And we have that breakfast with your family tomorrow, so you, mister, need to be well rested. Family breakfast, that’s bound to be stressful,” Felicity adds, under her breath.

With the lights turned off but the curtains of the room still open, so that moonlight spills onto the floor, they settle down together once Felicity has changed into a crop top and yoga pants to sleep in. As soon as she slips under the duvet, Oliver pulls her to him so she’s cradled to his bare chest, lying on top of him with her head tucked underneath his chin, purring very quietly. Sighing, Oliver stares straight up at the ceiling, forcing himself to relax and simply enjoy the feeling of his mate’s heartbeat slowly become in sync with his own. Felicity’s warmth a comforting weight on his torso.

But the steady hum of heat is still thrumming in his veins, just beneath his skin, the same hum that’s been accumulating there ever since his lips first came into contact with Felicity’s and it has him holding his breath. Oliver closes his eyes and allows his hands to wander down her form, stroking her lower back and hips. He attempts to put as much care and love into the motions as he possibly can, and the beautiful purring sounds his mate makes in response causes Oliver to rumble deeply in agreement, smiling at her acceptance of his touch.

He doesn’t realise his hand has dipped, dangerously, underneath the waistband of her yoga pants until Felicity goes very still. “Oliver…” Her tone is a clear warning, the loudness of her voice shattering the silence of the room.

“What?”

“Oliver, get your hand out of my yoga pants.” She sounds stern, but there’s a certain amount of amusement in her voice. “We are sleeping. We aren’t doing… any of that.”

“Felicity, I’m not tired,” he insists.

“You’ve yawned like six times. You’re tired. We’re sleeping.”

“Can we just kiss again, please?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“I said no.”

“My bruises hurt. You should kiss me so they feel better.”

“You caused the bruises yourself and that sort of manipulation is not going to work on me, mister. Now. _Sleep_.” She must be able to sense his wariness of closing his eyes and surrendering himself to rest, when every single time he’s slept in the last few days, he’s been attacked by violent memories, because she adds soothingly, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me, Oliver.”

Tipping his head back into the pillow, Oliver’s eyes flutter shut as he manages a resigned sigh, giving in to the fact that Felicity has the upper hand and they will not be kissing or going any further than that tonight, no matter how much he wants to. Shifting to be fully on top of him, Felicity hums quietly, and within minutes, with her ear pressed just over his heart so his heartbeat can lull her to sleep, she slips into a slumber, breathing evening out and her entire body relaxing. 

Oliver can feel himself getting more and more tired by the minute, but up until that final point where he falls into the darkness of his dreams and nightmares, his fingers dance over Felicity’s back gently, drawing unrecognisable and thoughtless patterns on her unmarred, smooth skin, simply enjoying the feeling of being able to be so vulnerable around his mate, all his barriers lowered without feeling uncomfortable or threatened. 

With Felicity… he feels at peace.

And for once, as unconsciousness and sleep pulls at him, he’s not afraid of the night visions he knows will plague him through his rest. As long as he has his mate by his side, he doesn’t have to fear anything.

* * *

_When Oliver first woke up, he was confused. Everything seemed hazy, his mind jumbled and thoughts a complete mess; everything his senses were reading was overwhelmingly strong and loud, creating a pounding in his head. He was lying on a small cot in the middle of a white room, the largest wall being made of a massive mirror, and the lights were sharp and almost blinding, making him wince and turn to the side to avoid them. The last thing he remembered was passing from the pain of a procedure. And now… he was resting with an IV and morphine drip in his arm, alone in a small room. Nothing made sense._

_Very slowly, Oliver forced himself to sit up, gazing around warily. He had been dressed in white basketball shorts and a t-shirt, and his feet were bare, meaning they were cold. Due to some kind of hypersensitivity in his skin, Oliver could tell that the room was being air conditioned, and the slightly frigid environment caused him to shiver. Carefully, he pulled the IV line and morphine drip out of his wrist. He needed to think clearly. And to think clearly, he needed to not be on painkillers._

_His eyes were immediately drawn to the mirror. Within a minute, he could tell it was, in fact, one-way glass. He tensed. He was being observed. His senses tingling, for a few seconds, Oliver stared at the mirror unblinkingly, but then he flipped the cot over and hunched beneath it, his breathing becoming quicker and shallower. He didn’t like being watched by humans he couldn’t see. It very much unsettled him, and he tried to curl up as small as possible behind the cot so he couldn’t be seen at all, his inhales harsh and exhales shaky._

_The door, which had been in the corner, locked and bolted, presumably, opened quietly, but still Oliver could hear every click and miniscule grinding of the hinges, making him cover his ears with a pitiful whine. He didn’t like this, this awful sensory overload he was experiencing. The footsteps on the floor created a vibration through the ground that shook Oliver to his very core, and he stayed completely still and didn’t move until he could sense the human looming above him, their presence just entering his space. At that point, he jolted to his feet and sprinted for the open door, hope rising in his chest as he saw, for the first time in months, an exit, an escape route._

_It slammed shut and locked seconds before he reached it, and even then, hearing the lock grind into place, Oliver snarled and threw himself at the door, hoping that it might give under his weight. Soon, he realised his hope had been false. There was no way they were ever going to allow him a chance of escape here. There was no possibility of him getting out, not when these scientists held an interest in him and his physiology._

_“Isn’t he a masterpiece?” the human in the room with him said. “Isn’t he beautiful? We couldn’t ask for a better showpiece.”_

_Instead of wanting to make himself look small and unthreatening, a different instinct rushed through him. Anger and fury overwhelming the fear and confusion, Oliver growled loudly and lowly, puffing his chest out and straightening his back so that he towered above the human, teeth bared threateningly. It was a male, small in height and average in appearance, and he didn’t seem the least bit worried by the fact that he had a very angry man nearly twice his size snarling at him._

_“He’s a little agitated at the moment, but that’s to be expected,” the human continued calmly. “Within time, Subject 141 should calm down and be very easy to train. We’re very proud of how successful he turned out. If you all turn to page three of your introductory information booklets, you will see that due to numerous mutations and forced changes in his DNA base sequencing and the introduction of an entirely new base, has resulted in Subject 141 becoming a completely new species. We’re calling him a_ Homo Bellator Custos.”

_Every single word the male spoke just made Oliver more and more enraged, as he didn’t understand what the human was saying, only confusing him even further, and finally, with that sentence about Oliver becoming a new species, he snapped. With a ferocious growl, he threw himself at the male._

_Except, he collapsed to the floor only a foot away from him. Groaning, Oliver groped with one of his limp hands to his back, where a sedative dart had just been shot. Managing to pull the dart out before losing the rest of the mobility in his muscles, Oliver closed his eyes with a whimper as the human stood over him, looking satisfied._

_“As you can tell, his instincts to protect himself and defend his territory are strong. By the observations we have made of a particularly interesting pack that has formed, of which Subject 141 is part of, we know that instincts to protect those close to them and those they care about have also developed, as we predicted. Within the pack, there will be dominant and submissive subjects, but until the specimens are observed once their transformations are complete, it cannot be determined whether or not they will present as alpha or omega. No matter whether they are dominant or not, however, they still possess these protective instincts, and are still deadly predators. We have plans to train the specimens to turn these protective instincts towards their master and owner, which will result in them being very effective bodyguards and weapons, whilst being rare pets._

_“Currently, Subject 141 is the only successful experiment, and is the only_ Homo Bellator Custos _in existence. That will change soon, however. We have hundreds more subjects that are in various stages of the transformation, and we shall continue the transformative procedures until we have a large enough population of the species at this facility to breed them. For now, we are going to take advantage of one of the physiological changes we did not predict in the specimens, which is the ability to self-impregnate, by asexual reproduction. Which is why, for now, Subject 141 is not for sale.”_

_Oliver took a stuttered breath and attempted to heave himself to his knees, but ended up collapsing again at the human’s feet. Smirking, the male knelt and ran a hand through his hair as if petting a cat, making Oliver flinch violently as fear lanced through his veins._

_Addressing whoever he’d been talking to before, the human continued stroking through Oliver’s hair as the archer trembled and shook on the floor as he raised his head and said, “If you follow the guard at the door, he will take you all to the viewing platform for champagne and a light lunch, so you can observe Subject 141’s release into his enclosure. It’s sure to be… entertaining. Thank you all for attending this introduction to the Bellator programme. If you wish to know more about the future sale and breeding programme of the species, then please consult your host for the lunch. She runs the facility and is the genius behind the creation of the species. Thank you for listening, and thank you for your time.”_

_Minutes passed, in which Oliver remained collapsed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably and wanting to be anywhere but curled up on the floor with this awful human practically fondling his head, sharp nails scratching into Oliver’s head. At that point, he would have rather killed himself than be in that position._

_“No doubt you’re wondering what’s going on,” the human said in a sickeningly pleasant voice. “You’re finished, 141. We finally completed all the procedures we needed to on you. You’re no longer human. You’re a_ Homo Bellator Custos. _You’re going to serve your purpose here as a stud, and you’re never going to see the outside of this facility ever again.”_

_The male’s eyes darkened and he smiled, in such a way that Oliver’s heart jolted and he whimpered. “Well. Until you’re sold to somebody as their personal weapon and shield, that is. There are a lot of people interested in you. Government people, and private business owners… even certain mafias and mobs. You’re going to make us a lot of money, 141. And whether you accept it or not, you belong to us now.”_

* * *

Oliver awakens with a jolt, his entire body spasming beneath Felicity’s and breath catching in his throat. His heart is pounding so quickly and violently within his chest that his intercostal muscles are aching, his ribs throbbing with pain, although he knows that’s probably due mostly to the bruising across his torso from last night, and not because of the panic attack that is looming. Just as he thinks he’s falling into an abyss of full blown anxiety, however, his mate shifts on his chest with small whine, as if sensing his discomfort, rubbing her head into the crook of his neck with a quiet purr.

Instantly, he relaxes, his arms instinctively tightening around Felicity and embracing her tightly to him. Syncing his breathing to hers, Oliver calms within minutes, the horrific memory dream already fading from the forefront of his mind so that the fear doesn’t overwhelm him. With Felicity’s weight pressing down onto him, creating a soothing sensation and grounds him to reality, the Bellator is quickly able to compartmentalise, and settle once again. He lies back from his half sitting up position, glancing to the window and grimacing when he realises it’s nearing dawn, but the sky is still dark. It’s early. He should get back to sleep before his mate senses something is wrong.

His careful, sleek movement of lowering himself back down onto the mattress, however, causes Felicity to snuffle against his chest. Sighing in guilt at having woken her up, Oliver presses the palm of his hand onto her bare back, under her shirt, and draws gentle circles there, rumbling lowly so that his mate can feel the vibration. His hope that it will soothe her back to sleep turns out to be false, nonetheless… of course Felicity was going to sense when her partner was in distress. Of course she was going to respond to that.

Her voice still slurred and gaze hazy, Felicity croaks out questioningly, “Ol’ver? You ‘kay?”

Guilt swamping him at having woken her up, when his mate really does deserve the rest, Oliver just nods, arching his head downwards so he can nuzzle at her hair with a reassuring purr. When his mate makes a worried noise, Oliver whispers, “I’m alright. Just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

Instead of putting her mind at ease, Felicity immediately seems more awake, rolling off of his chest, which makes Oliver whine in protest, so she can lie by his side underneath the duvet. “Want to talk about it?” she asks concernedly, leaning on her elbow so she can prop her head up. “I’m always here for you, if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Except if he tells Felicity about what had happened to him in the facility, what the scientists had kept him _there_ for, what their intentions for him were, she would be horrified. The entire thing is traumatising for him, he can’t imagine what it would look and sound like to Felicity. He shakes his head, managing a weak smile. “Just a stupid memory. It’s not important. Nothing about my pack or Sara.”

Felicity takes a hold of Oliver’s chin and turns his face towards her, her eyes piercing but sympathetic even as the Bellator actively pulls away from her. “It’s not stupid,” she says. “And if it upset you, and alarmed you enough to wake you up, then it’s important. I don’t care if it wasn’t anything about your pack or Sara, Oliver. I care if it was about _you _. I care about _you_.”__

Biting his lip, Oliver looks down at his hands where his fingers are messing with the blankets. Although his mate massively reassures him by saying all that, he’s still a little hesitant to talk about the memory, not because he doesn’t want to tell her about it, but because he’s only just been able to compartmentalise it, and he wants to be able to settle properly before thinking about it again, so he can process it without feeling fear or horror. “I appreciate the offer,” he says. “But I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.” 

“Hey, that’s totally okay,” Felicity nods. “You talk when you’re comfortable, alright?” 

“I promise you, I will,” he swears, lightly dropping a kiss to her forehead before lying back with a sigh. Circling his arm around her, he draws Felicity back on top of his chest, his hands bracing her hips against his as he purrs, nuzzling into her neck. “You’re tired, you should go back to sleep. It’s early.” 

“Are you going back to sleep?” his mate questions quietly, nipping at his ear lobe with her own purr of contentment, hands stroking down his shoulders. 

“Probably not,” he admits. 

“Then I’m not going back to sleep,” she murmurs, her lips pressing tiny little kisses along his collarbone and up his jawline, making him groan as he fights the urge to just flip his mate over and devour her. Slow. They had to go slow. When Felicity pauses for a second, raising her head to check the time, Oliver whines, upset that she stopped the affection. “It’s actually around six am, so it’s not that early.” 

“What time did my mother say breakfast was again?” 

“Nine. We have three hours.” 

“Hmm.” Oliver smiles and arches his head up to brush his nose against her chin, his hands tightening around her hips and if possible, holding her warm body even closer to his. He curses silently in his head of the barriers of clothing between them, wanting to feel her hot skin against his, but he has to respect their boundaries. No sex. Not yet. But that doesn’t mean they can’t make out for three hours until they’re needed downstairs. 

“Oliver,” Felicity whispers. 

“Yep?” 

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, we can’t just lie in bed together and kiss for the next three hours. We need to get up. We both need to shower and get dressed, and Caitlin needs to check your bruises and take blood. I hate having to say it, but we do actually need to get up.” 

“If you hate having to say it, then why say it?” he grumbles. 

“Because one of us has to say it, and that’s certainly not gonna be you,” Felicity teases, pecking his lips very briefly before beginning to get up. Oliver makes a frustrated noise, trying to chase another kiss, but his mate presses a steady hand to his chest and actually has to nerve to use his shoulder as a support to clamber out of the bed, stretching her arms and legs. 

Felicity goes to take a shower, grabbing the duffle bag with all her belongings in it with her, and for a moment, Oliver twists over onto his front so his feet are at the head of the bed, watching her longingly. He aches to climb into the shower with her, and have his mate in his arms again, have her body pressed up against his so those sweet tendrils of heat can flare through his body like they did last night. But no, he knows they have to take separate showers. Pushing too far, too fast, would create a tension within their blossoming, fledgling relationship, and there is absolutely no way that the Bellator is allowing that to happen. Instead, when the bathroom door shuts behind Felicity, Oliver forces himself to his feet and drops down to the floor, starting to stretch and do a quick work out so his muscles aren’t as tight, working off some energy so he doesn’t feel like he wants to crawl out of his skin. 

His mate spends around twenty minutes in the shower, and when she comes out, dressed in a bright salmon sundress that barely reaches mid thigh, Oliver has to swallow and forcefully avert his eyes as he gathers up some clothes to wear for the day, so that he doesn’t immediately give in to his possessive instinct to pin to her to the wall. He showers quickly, only taking five minutes under the hot spray as he cleans himself. His hair is still dripping wet as he pulls on his clothes, having just gone for dark wash jeans and a navy denim shirt. The Bellator won’t need to wear his Arrow suit today, and although he still doesn’t know much about human customs, Oliver knows enough to realise that it would be weird to wear an armoured hooded jacket and leather pants at a family breakfast. 

Striding out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair dry with a hand towel, Oliver is pleasantly surprised to find Caitlin sitting on the edge of the bed next to Felicity, talking to her quietly. The doctor rises and offers him a warm smile. 

“Good morning,” she greets. 

“Hi,” he replies. Peering around Caitlin and catching sight of the arnica gel and a blood draw kit resting on top of the bed, he says dryly, “Was there any point in me getting changed?” 

“Don’t sass, mister,” Felicity chides gently, smirking. “Shirt off. Caitlin’s checking your bruising.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright.” He strips his shirt off without a second thought, a grin tugging at his lips when his mate visibly inhales sharply, swallowing. He can almost feel Felicity’s eyes as they dance down his torso appreciatively. “Half-naked enough for you?” he teases. She scoffs, but her smile only widens. 

Caitlin looks bemused, frowning as her gaze snaps between the two of them. But as Felicity takes Oliver’s hand and guides him over to a chair, placing her hands on his shoulders to urge him to sit, the doctor freezes in realisation. 

“You two are together?” she asks curiously. “Officially, now?” 

Felicity glances down at the Bellator in question, and he just shrugs. He doesn’t mind Caitlin knowing about their relationship changing from platonic to romantic. The doctor’s been through hell and back with him, helping him deal with panic attacks and injuries, and she aided him and Felicity in understanding their mate bond. They both owe a lot to her, and Oliver would trust her with his life. 

“Yes,” Felicity confirms, a wide, happy grin splitting her face. “We’re together.” 

“Thank god,” is not exactly what Oliver was expecting Caitlin to exclaim, sighing in relief. “I don’t think any of us could take the longing stares and sexual tension between you two much longer.” 

“So you’re okay with this?” Oliver asks, raising his eyebrow. 

“Why would I not be okay with it?” Caitlin questions, bewildered. “You both love each other, and care about each other a lot, and you’re both mates. It was only a matter of time that you got your heads out of your asses and got together.” 

Felicity blinks, unimpressed. “Wow. Okay.” 

Caitlin begins her checks, taking some of Oliver’s blood whilst Felicity carefully rubs the arnica gel into his bruises. All of his former injuries are now healed up and scarred over, so Caitlin hands his mate some anti-scarring cream to dab over the red knotted lines of skin. 

However, the doctor continues to ramble as she works, amusing both Oliver and Felicity greatly. “I mean, it was kind of inevitable you two were going to get together. Everybody could see your chemistry. I mean, Tommy and Diggle even made bets - Diggle won, by the way, he bet that you two wouldn’t last the week. But I guess now that you two are together, I’m going to have my work cut out for me, I’ll have to do tests on both of you to check pheromone production and endorphin levels and - you’re going to have to tell me all about your sex lives. Bellator sexual habits have never been observed before, it’s going to be fascinating learning about how -” 

“Caitlin,” Felicity interrupts, her face straight as she barely holds herself back from laughing. “We’re not telling you about our sex lives.” 

The doctor leaves after finishing the blood draw, grumbling a little about how the both of them are preventing important scientific discoveries from taking place if they refuse to tell her about Oliver’s sexual habits. It’s only once the door shuts behind her that Felicity bursts out giggling, Oliver chuckling softly as well whilst he yanks his shirt back on. 

“I can’t believe she wants me to tell her all about when we have sex,” Felicity laughs, her nose wrinkling slightly. “I know she’s your doctor, but that is weird.” 

“My sexual habits could result in scientific breakthroughs, Felicity,” Oliver responds innocently, grinning as his mate snorts and almost collapses to the ground laughing again. “It could change the face of the scientific world as we know it.” 

“Stop,” she gasps, trying to hold back her giggles. 

Laughing quietly, Oliver sweeps up beside her and eases his mate into his arms, anchoring her hips to his with one well-placed arm around Felicity’s lower back. Cutting off her laughter with a stolen kiss, gently pressed to her lips as the Bellator nuzzles her nose with his own, Felicity hums happily, beaming. She briefly pulls back to dot a kiss on the tip of his nose before darting back down to his lips, tenderly crushing her mouth to kiss with her hands caressing his sides, which causes the Bellator to purr. He could get used to this. Waking up beside Felicity, the teasing, flirting and quick banter, followed by warm morning kisses, filled with love and passion and devotion. 

They’re so wrapped up in the beautiful, intimate moment that neither of them realise that a knock has sounded on the bedroom door and the door has opened until it’s too late. A heavy gasp of shock and horror sounds, and Oliver breaks the kiss instantly, enveloping his mate in his arms protectively and slightly angling her away from the door, a snarl on his lips. He does not expect to see Moira Queen standing there, looking completely stunned into silence, hand frozen on the door knob and the expression on her face causing tingles of embarrassment but also fear to erupt in the archer’s stomach. 

“Mrs Queen!” Felicity says hurriedly, still breathless from the kiss. “This isn’t what it looks -” 

The door slams shut behind Moira, cutting his mate off before she can finish. Oliver remains stock still, his arms around Felicity, so the blonde has to untangle herself from his grip to race after his mother, opening the door and peering out into the corridor, appearing stricken and concerned. Oliver just stands there, watching her, a pit forming in his chest. His mother already didn’t approve of Felicity staying in his room, and staying with Oliver, knowing that they were mates. What would she think now, knowing that the two of them were in a romantic relationship? 

“She’s gone,” Felicity says, shutting the door. The worry is clear in her voice as she continues, “We’ll have to explain at breakfast.” 

“Why?” Oliver finds himself questioning. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but a protective part of his mind makes him spontaneously ask, his tone defensive, “How is this any of her business?” 

Felicity shoots him a strange look, crossing the room to grab her cell phone and clutch purse. “She’s your - well, Oliver Queen’s - mother.” 

“I’m not Oliver Queen.” 

“You’re still her son,” she reminds him softly. “And she still cares about you that way. She’s going to react like any parent would, discovering their child is in a relationship without telling them.” 

Grimacing, Oliver takes Felicity’s offered hand and allows her to lead him down the stairs and into the living room, where he’s surprised to find most of their team already waiting, seated and sipping at cups of tea and coffee. Walter and Lance are reading newspapers, and both of them glance up briefly to offer morning greetings before returning to their articles, whilst Tommy seems to be showing something to Thea on his phone. Both of them are still in pyjamas. Diggle and Lyla are both standing by the large bay windows, talking hushedly, but when the pair enters the room, they turn and smile at them both. Caitlin walks in just after Felicity and Oliver do, cup of coffee in hand, and she sits down on the couch next to Lance. Moira is nowhere to be seen, but to the Bellator’s surprise, Laurel is there, snuggled up to Tommy’s hand with one of her hands laced with his and smiling fondly as Thea goes into a long winded enthusiastic rant about some family called the Kardashians. 

“Good morning,” Felicity greets them all cheerfully, a spring in her step as she drags Oliver forwards. The archer rolls his eyes, but he has to smile, his gaze fixed on his mate in adoration as everybody mutters their own good mornings back. “Laurel, hi! I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Dad and I got back quite late last night,” Laurel explains, smiling. “Moira was kind enough to agree to me staying here until the entire situation with Price and the conservation is sorted.” She offers a small wave to the Bellator, her voice hesitant as she offers, “Hi, Oliver.” 

Her uncertainty is due to the past tension between them, the Bellator knows; the tension brought on by the fact that Laurel had discovered that in his past life, he had cheated on her and taken her sister onto the Queen’s Gambit, consequentially killing her - well, to Laurel’s knowledge. Oliver isn’t ready to tell anybody else that Sara had ended up at the facility, being turned into a Bellator too. But the discovery of Price violating them both, by injecting Laurel’s DNA into Oliver without either of their knowledge, seems to have cleared the air. “Hey, Laurel,” he smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast?” 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” he reassures. 

“The more the merrier,” Thea pipes up, grinning. Oliver tries to hold back his snigger at her kitten-covered pyjamas, but his little sister seems utterly unashamed by her clothing choice. “Raisa’s cooking a Full English breakfast, with pancakes, waffles and fruit parfait - we weren’t sure what you’d want, Ollie.” 

He winces at the nickname, but since it’s Thea, he doesn’t mind as much. “Thank you. Have you seen Mom?” The word feels strange in his mouth, considering he only really met Oliver Queen’s mother yesterday, and it’s going to take a while to get used to knowing and thinking that yes, he does have a family. 

“She went upstairs to check on you two and then rushed down here and said she had to check on some QC stock holdings,” Walter relayed. “Which is quite strange, considering she usually despises dealing with the stock market.” 

Felicity shoots him a sheepish look. “Yeah, we… might have freaked her out a little.” 

“How exactly?” Tommy raises his eyebrows. 

Felicity inhales sharply and her eyes dart to Oliver’s, silently questioning him warily whether or not he wants them to know. But he smiles, and nods, reaching out his hand to tangle his fingers with hers comfortably, drawing her to his side. He needs to learn to trust his team and family, slowly, and letting them know that he and Felicity are together is a step forwards in that. It’s not as big as telling them about the island and what occurred at the facility, but it’s warming up to that. “She walked in on Felicity and I.” 

Diggle’s eyes widen slightly, but his expression remains unflappable as he finishes dryly, “Kissing?” 

Licking her lips nervously, Felicity gives a wobbly smile and says, “Yeah.” 

Diggle immediately turns to Tommy and orders, “Pay up.” 

So Caitlin wasn’t lying about them making bets. Tommy grumbles and mutters at Felicity and Oliver, “You two couldn’t wait another three days?” as he stands and pulls a twenty dollar bill out of his back pocket, slamming it into Diggle’s open palm. 

“Nobody is freaking out about this?” Felicity asks, bewildered. “I mean… we only really got together last night.” 

“I thought you two had already been together for weeks,” Walter offers. “You already act married.” 

“Same, to be honest,” Thea adds. 

Lyla smirks as she tags on the end, “You weren’t exactly hiding your feelings towards each other. You were both just a little slow on the uptake. You’ve been teetering on the edge between platonic and romantic… basically since I met you both.” 

“Everybody knew except us,” Felicity shakes her head amusedly, grinning at Oliver and resting her hand on his lower back, rubbing circles with her thumb. 

“Well, if it’s our blessing you want,” Tommy smirks, “I’ll happily go grab some candles, chalk and a Bible.” 

“That sounds more like you’re about to do a satanic ritual, Tommy,” Thea snickers. 

“The Bible isn’t used in satanic rituals, Thea.” 

“That’s enough, children,” Walter rolls his eyes. His gaze is sympathetic and kind when he turned to Oliver and Felicity, reassuring them both, “I’m sure Moira just wasn’t expecting to have her son come back to her, and be in a relationship with somebody she has not properly met. She just needs time to adjust, I’m certain she will be happy for the two of you once she gets used to it. If need be, I will speak to her about it.” 

“Thank you, Walter,” Felicity replies graciously. 

The British male claps his hands together, causing Oliver to startle slightly. “Breakfast will be ready any moment now, let’s move into the dining room. And Tommy, Thea, you two aren’t allowed to sit next to each other.” 

Tommy pouts. “You’re no fun, Walter.” 

They all proceed to the dining room, where the table has been set up for a group of their considerable size and all the food has been laid out on platters and hot plates. Oliver ends up seated between Felicity and Thea, opposite Diggle, but when faced with the wide selection of food in front of him, he just stares, wide eyed, not knowing what to do. He’s never been given such a variety of choice before, and confronted with it… he’s not certain what the protocol is. Everything before had been so black and white, and now everything is changing, so fast, and the Bellator knows he’s struggling dealing with it. It might be stupid to have this kind of mental crisis when seated at a table ready to have breakfast, but it’s not as if he can exactly stop it from happening. 

Luckily, Caitlin comes to the rescue. Whilst dishing out food onto her own plate, she’s also been preparing Oliver one, so that he ends up with a healthy, balanced meal. When she sets the plate down in front of him, pouring the Bellator a small glass of orange juice and another small glass of milk, he shoots her a grateful, relieved look, which she responds to by reassuringly rubbing his shoulder. Felicity squeezes the hand she hasn’t released yet as she uses her other hand to place bacon and scrambled eggs onto her plate, her eyes warm and comforting. 

“Can my son not serve himself?” 

Oliver startles, not even noticing Moira walking into the room, which is slightly alarming. His instincts are off, and he’s been letting his guard down a lot when he’s with Felicity. He insists that in the future that he should stay more focused and vigilant. The female’s voice is stiff as she makes the scathing comment, but it’s directed more at Caitlin than at Oliver. 

“As his doctor, I’m managing his diet,” Caitlin replies, straightening up and her eyes fierce as she locks gazes with the Queen matriarch. “He’s still re-learning foods, and until Oliver feels he’s confident enough to know how to serve himself balanced meals that suit his lifestyle and habits, I’m just overseeing.” She doesn’t break eye contact with Moira as she questions the Bellator lightly, “You’re okay with that, aren’t you, Oliver?” 

He pauses around his mouthful of sliced apple to nod and agree shortly, “Yep.” 

Moira still looks unhappy, but she takes her seat at the head of the table, now deciding to entirely ignore Felicity and Caitlin’s presences, which annoys Oliver to no end. Thankfully, his attention is occupied when he’s drawn into conversation by his sister, when Thea offers him a cup of coffee and Felicity hurriedly informs her of their rules about coffee concerning the Bellator. He mostly listens, only occasionally butting in to offer a single sentence of opinion, but he lets Thea, Diggle, Felicity and Tommy do a majority of the talking, enjoying hearing them communicate and tease each other as they change the subject to food tastes. 

Oliver doesn’t realise that his mother, Walter, Caitlin, Lance and Laurel are discussing revealing Oliver’s identity to the public until it catches Felicity’s attention and she gently clears her throat so only the Bellator can hear, nudging his side with her elbow and nodding towards the group. 

_“Don’t you think Oliver should be included in your conversation?” his mate interrupts them pointedly, gently stroking her fingers up and down the Bellator’s thigh._

Lance shoots them an apologetic glance, saying, “Of course. I’m sorry; we didn’t mean to exclude you. We’re just discussing whether or not we should get the police and courts involved.” 

“Why don’t we go over what we’ve already talked about, and go from there?” Laurel offers. 

They explain to the group what they’d been discussing. Moira and Walter can get the QC public relations department to drive down to the mansion and draft a release to state that Oliver is still alive, and they would take a few photos to prove it, and possibly get a small statement. Then, publishing that, they would wait for a media reaction. If the reception is positive, they’ll plan a gala and invite several media outlets so they can do a few interviews, and they can prove that it is Oliver who is the Starling City Bellator. Then, if the conservation tries to get involved and seize possession of Oliver back, Laurel will get the police and courts involved by filing charges against Price and her organisation. 

Oliver has to admit, it sounds fool proof. He doesn’t like the idea of having to sit and talk to strangers, even if he doesn’t have to give them much information, which Felicity reassures him. He’d still have a group of humans he doesn’t know questioning him, and that is not something he would enjoy. However, it is a good plan. Moira and Walter will deal with all the press and media, Diggle and Lyla will be there for security, Lance will be their contact with the police, Laurel with the courts, and Tommy, Thea and Felicity will be his moral support. There will be enough security in the mansion that his privacy won’t be too badly violated, and at least he knows they’ll be able to control most things, and it won’t be out of Oliver’s hands completely. 

“What do you think, Oliver?” Walter questions, tilting his head. There’s a certain degree of worry in his eyes, and Oliver’s slightly touched by the idea of the human male wanting his approval before they do anything. 

“It’s… a good idea,” he allows. 

“But?” Thea prompts. 

“I have this thing,” he explains cautiously. “It’s kind of an instinct. Because of everything that’s happened... I associate humans with danger and that might make it… difficult, for me to interact with strangers.” 

“That’s true,” Laurel smiles sadly. “When you first met Tommy and I, you were wary. You nearly attacked Felicity. It took you several days to trust us enough to let us come near you and touch you.” 

“And that was knowing that we were your friends,” Tommy adds, brow furrowing. “Yeah, I’m starting to see how this might be an issue.” 

Oliver moves an orange slice around his plate with a lone finger as he frowns, staring down at it. Finally lifting his gaze, he locks eyes with Felicity and takes a hold of her hand, brushing his shoulder against hers. “I think I’ll be okay if Felicity is with me.” 

“No, Oliver, I don’t think it would appropriate to let on to the media that you are in a relationship when we are just announcing you are still alive,” Moira says loudly, raising her chin. 

Oliver barely blinks. “Then we’re not doing the press release then.” 

His mother balks. “Sweetheart -” 

“Felicity is my mate, she’s my life partner, and I love her. She keeps me calm and centred, and when she’s by my side, I feel safe,” Oliver insists, keeping his expression carefully schooled and voice monotone. “I am not going public with my identity and actively issuing what is essentially a statement of war against Price and the conservation without her.” 

Moira looks troubled and her voice is soft as she trails, “Oliver…” 

“Mrs Queen?” Felicity is hesitant, but she shifts forwards in her seat, and Oliver settles back so she can take the lead. His mate doesn’t let go of his hand, in fact, she raises their joined hands up onto the table, so that everybody can see. “I know it must be really weird for you to get your son back under such strange and awful circumstances, find out he’s another species and then discover that he’s in a relationship in such a… graphic manner. But I promise you, I have nothing but good intentions towards your son. I love Oliver, and I care about him a lot, and I will protect him in any way possible, until my dying breath.” 

There’s a silent, fleeting moment where everybody holds their breath, as Felicity and Moira just stare at each other, the Queen matriarch’s eyes cold and calculating, whilst Felicity’s are warm, honest and open. After what seems like an eternity to the Bellator, Moira just nods, managing a small smile, and it’s as if the tension that was holding the room in suspense has drained out. 

“Alright,” Moira says. “I’ll prepare the publicity team and let them know that Oliver will be accompanied by Miss Smoak at all times.” Turning to her son, she adds, her smile twisting slightly into an amused smirk, “We’re going to have to ask a tailor to drive out here to fit you for a new tux.” 

“A tux?” Oliver repeats, confusedly. 

“It’s a type of suit,” Diggle explains. “You’ll have to wear one if the gala takes place.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lance cuts in. “We need to release a press statement first.” 

“Then let’s do it,” Felicity says. “Oliver? 

Oliver looks between his friends and family, his heart pounding in his chest and mouth going dry as he’s filled with nerves. His back straightening as he exhales slowly, squeezing Felicity’s hand, he gives a short nod. “It’s time for the world to know that Oliver Queen is still alive.” 

* * *


	21. The Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparation for the media release begins, and as the public is informed, more plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this quick chapter! I will admit, is it sort of an interim chapter, but important things do happen in it, and a couple of things happen that many of you asked about last chapter :)
> 
> Thanks once again for all your support, I really appreciate it!

* * *

Breakfast ends, and the group disperses, Oliver feeling comfortably full and slightly dopey because of it; his instinct calls for him to curl up in a nest and sleep for a few hours, but now their plan for the day is set out, he knows he has to jump into action. Walter and Moira depart to brief and collect the QC’s media team, whilst Diggle, Lyla, Caitlin, Lance and Laurel head off into the mansion’s library to co-ordinate police and legal efforts with the Queen family’s security, and Tommy and Thea go upstairs to shower and change into day clothes.

Oliver grabs his bow, and he and Felicity traipse outside to the mansion’s extensive, large grounds, in order for the Bellator to work some nervous energy off. Felicity sits on a chair on the patio, with a lightweight white shawl covering her shoulders to shield her from the fresh morning breeze. Sorting out his quiver on the table, Oliver can sense her eyes piercing into his back worriedly. He’s sensed her concern ever since they started discussing the plan with revealing Oliver’s identity, her emotions a very subtle, yet noticeable pull at the back of his mind.

Beginning to shoot arrows towards a makeshift target on a tree, he addresses his mate promptingly, “It’s not like you to be quiet.”

Felicity hums in response. “Just thinking.” Another arrow strikes the bullseye and she laughs softly. “And watching you murder that tree.”

Turning back to her, bow drawn and arrow nocked, but lowered, his elbows resting by his sides, Oliver questions curiously, “Is it about how my mother reacted to you?” Sure, his mother seems to have accepted Felicity, and accepted that as his mate, she will always remain at his side, but that doesn’t mean that Moira is going to approve, or necessarily like it. He’ll have to have a short conversation with her later on, if her attitude towards Felicity remains cold.

Tilting her head sideways, the blonde narrows her eyes, knotting her fingers together on her lap. “Actually it’s about how you reacted to what she said,” she answers. “When you refused to do the press release without me.”

Oliver nods. “What about what I said?”

Felicity cocks her head again, and this time she looked puzzled. As if what he just replied doesn’t make sense. There is a brief silence, in which she stares directly at Oliver, a slight frown marring her expression, which makes the Bellator squirm. He shoots the arrow strung to his bow, hitting the bullseye once again, before he strides back towards her and takes Felicity’s hand, rubbing circles over her knuckles with his thumb. Her eyes fleet down to where they’re touching and she smiles beautifully, but when she glances back up at him, her lips tighten.

“What is it?” he questions. He’s not worried, but he is a little bewildered. “What did I say?”

“Oliver, you said you loved me.”

He nods slowly. And that is life changing… how, exactly? “Yes. Because I do.”

Felicity bites her lip to hide her grin. “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

That makes him pause for a second. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“No, I must have said it before,” he argues. “I must have. When we were in bed -”

“Oliver, trust me,” Felicity cuts in firmly. “We have never said ‘I love you’s to each other before.”

“Oh.” He frowns. He would have thought that he had. He’s felt love towards Felicity for so long now he can’t remember the moment when he first fell for her. There’s not really a defining moment he can think of where he realised that he was in love with Felicity Smoak. And he’d figured that when they first found out they were mates, he would have said something. “Well, I do love you. You know that, right?”

She smiles, tugging his hand where they’re joined, which makes him grin also and grip it a little tighter due to the possessive side of him. “It’s a little different hearing you say it aloud.”

He’s filled with a crushing sense of remorse, so much so that his next breath stutters and his eyes slam shut. How could he have not told Felicity that he loves her before? She’s done _everything_ for him, she’s _everything_ to him, his light in the darkness and the first sight of the sun through a storm. She’s lightning electrifying his nerves and thunder pounding in his heart. She is his soul, his mate, his _Soulmate_ and he’s never told her that he loves her before? Regret slams into him again when he realises that he’s definitely had the opportunity offered to him before, he just never took it. He should have been tripping over himself to tell Felicity that he loved her. He shouldn’t have first said it aloud during a flippant statement of defiance against his mother and determination for Felicity to stay; he shouldn’t have announced that he loved her when _not even addressing her_. What kind of partner is he?

“Hey, hey.” Felicity gets to her feet in front of him, her hand rising to caress his cheek gently whilst the other settles comfortingly on his shoulder, her thumb stroking his collarbone. How can she be so kind to him, still? He doesn’t deserve her. He can’t even look at her. “Oliver, look it at me, it’s alright. It’s okay. My first ‘I love you’ happened during that argument with your mom as well, please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologise for,” she assures softly. Easing his bow out of his hand, Felicity guides him to sit down onto the chair she was seated on before, sliding onto his lap. The reaction it causes is probably inappropriate, especially considering his family is somewhere nearly, so Oliver shifts uncomfortably, but Felicity can undoubtedly feel his arousal from her position seated on his thighs with her feet dangling. She gives him a slightly predatory smile as she leans down and presses her lips to his softly.

He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and arching his head up to her lips, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. Breaking the kiss briefly to press tiny kisses to her mouth and nuzzle his nose against hers, murmuring, “I love you, Felicity Smoak, I love you,” his mate groans in response, sounding so guttural and turned on, rubbing herself on his lap that a primal growl escapes his throat. “Mine. You’re mine, Felicity. My mate, and I love you.”

Instinctively he wants to deepen the kiss, but at that moment, he hears strange voices from inside the house. The strong urge to protect his mate overtakes him, so he pulls away and stands, bodily placing her on the chair as she blinks up at him with sparkling blue eyes, licking her swollen lips. Darting down for a final quick kiss, Oliver grabs his bow and snicks an arrow from his quiver, turning to face the threats with the arrow nocked, but his bow lowered.

Moira and Walter appear with Diggle behind them, leading two humans, a male and a female. Neither of them appears very threatening, their posturing unsure and a little excited, but not coming across as dangerous. Oliver risks a swift sniff, taking in their scents, and they are both average, smelling completely harmless. Felicity leans around him to give Diggle a wave, which the bodyguard returns with a smile. The romantic moment from before still strays at the back of Oliver’s mind, but he decides that he and his mate will pick it back up later, when they are alone. For now, he has to deal with the two new humans.

Moira introduces them, and they’re from QC’s legal team, but they also help out with media representation, both of them having backgrounds in journalism. They are very interested to meet him, Oliver guesses, according to their expressions and their reactions when they see him. The male’s name is Terry Carter, and the female is Eliza Walker. Terry will be writing the press statement, whilst Eliza takes photos. Apparently both of them knew Ollie Queen when he was younger, and they both gush over him, saying how absolutely relieved and thrilled they were to hear from Moira and Walter that he is alive, that he survived the shipwreck. Oliver flat out tells them that he doesn’t remember them and that he’s amnesiac, and can barely remember anything from his previous life, the only clear thing in his mind the awful, illegal experimentation and torture he went through.

Felicity chides him with a gentle, warning, “Oliver,” tugging at his shirt so he turns to her, biting his lip at her unimpressed expression. “Be nice.”

“Miss Smoak,” Terry greets her. “Mrs Queen did mention you would be here.”

“Nice to see you again, Terry,” Felicity says, standing with a smile. The Bellator is relieved when she remains behind him, however, seeming to sense his need to protect her. He almost jumps when her hand presses into the small of his back, rubbing circles there soothingly, but he does relax ever so slightly. Addressing Moira, who looks surprised, and also the archer, she says, “I know Terry and Eliza from QC. They both have a particularly nasty habit of accidentally deleting their email software from their laptops.”

They go onto the topic of the press release then. Moira and Walter has already told them what they want, a short statement with not much detail but clear facts. No interview. If a follow up statement is needed due to media reaction, both Diggle, Felicity, Laurel and the Queen family will give statements. It takes about ten minutes for Terry to work up something that is reasonable on his tablet, which everybody approves off. Oliver doesn’t really understand what he’s looking for, so he watches Felicity’s reaction and then his mother’s, working out whether or not he should be nodding or shaking his head when the paragraphs are presented to him. He barely understands what is going on, to be honest, and his insides are twisting with nerves and anxiety, his chest feeling tight.

He thinks he’s on the verge of a panic attack by the time that Eliza announces it’s time for a quick photo-shoot. Felicity seems to sense this because she pulls him aside for a moment as the lighting is set up with the tripod and camera, and he just collapses in her arms, forehead resting on her warm shoulder as she coaches him to just _breathe_. Inhale. Exhale. As the Bellator embraces her tightly, he can feel his heartbeat syncing to hers, giving him an immense sense of satisfaction, and she manages to calm him enough that as long as she’s only a few metres away from him, he feels comfortable enough to stand in front of the camera by himself.

After five minutes of Eliza snapping pictures, she seems to grow irritated, fiddling with the lens as she says frustratedly, “He doesn’t look natural enough. He’s all tensed up and stiff. Doesn’t make for good photos.”

“He hasn’t been in front of a camera for five years, give him some slack,” Felicity snaps, bristling in his defence. She’s standing just out of the camera’s sights, as close to Oliver as she can possibly be, and she has his quiver slung over her shoulder and his bow in her hand, holding them for him during the photo-shoot, as Eliza had protested to him having them in the photos.

Eliza runs her eyes up and down Oliver scrutinisingly, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. Shrinking into himself, the Bellator is so focused on making himself as small as possible and stopping himself from hyperventilating, ignoring the urge to pant, that he doesn’t even hear the photographer’s next suggestion. Whatever it is, however, makes Felicity practically explode. His mate storms up to the woman, but instead of shouting, she spits and hisses in the female’s face, shaking with her rage.

The anxiety and nerves becomes too much for him when the archer notices that his hands are trembling. “Felicity,” he murmurs.

Her head snaps around and the blonde is at his side in seconds, hands bracing his shoulders and worried eyes searching his face. As soon as the bodily contact with his mate returns, his shoulders slump some, but he’s still strung tight as a wire, wanting to bolt and get out of the lights and view of the camera. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

“I don’t like this,” he says quietly.

“No, neither do I,” she informs him. “Should we leave?”

Moira overhears and comments in a stern, slightly rigid voice, “That’s a bit of an extreme reaction, isn’t it?”

“Eliza just suggested that putting your son in a suit would make the pictures look more natural,” Felicity replies, her tone harsh. “And Oliver is on the verge of a panic attack. If he wants to leave, then we are leaving.”

“Alright, alright,” Walter pipes up, coming forwards with his hands held out placatingly. He looks between them all, his wise dark eyes settling on each of them individually, calculating. Oliver meets his gaze head on, and then the Brit straightens his back, saying, “Maybe we’re going about this wrong. We’re thinking the photos will look better if Oliver wears civilian clothes and is in a homely setting, which will add to the homecoming vibes. What if what we need is precisely the opposite of that?”

Felicity’s eyes light up. “I see what you’re saying,” she agrees. “At the moment we’re focusing on the fact that Oliver Queen has returned _home_ , we’re not focusing on the most important point we need to get across to the public, which is that Oliver is the Arrow. We need pictures of Oliver in his Arrow suit with his bow. We need pictures of Oliver shooting arrows and looking like the incredible warrior creature that he is.”

Felicity leads him upstairs and quickly checks her laptop, humming quietly whilst Oliver changes into the suit, pulling on the leather pants and boots before pausing and standing there shirtless, a confused frown marring his expression. Humans still utterly bewilder him, but usually he can read his mate quite well. Being unable to understand Felicity’s actions and opinions about what’s going on concerning the media is disconcerting.

“I’m beginning to regret this,” he says miserably.

Felicity immediately looks up at him, worried. “How come?”

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” he says quietly. “And I know that people are trying to explain but I still don’t understand. I know we have to do this, but now that it’s happening… I just want it to be over.”

She makes a small anxious noise, standing so she can walk over and comfort him further, rubbing up and down his arms and pressing her body into his. He calms considerably as she plasters herself over his chest, ducking his head to inhale her scent and nuzzle at her hair. “If we’re going too fast, we can slow down,” she suggests. “Your health is more important than this plan, hun.”

“No, it’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Just… don’t leave me?”

There is a fierce glint in her blue eyes as Felicity promises, “Never.”

The photo-shoot begins once again, but this time, the Bellator is instructed to do whatever feels comfortable for him. It’s a drastic change to their last approach, but he sees Walter and his mother’s encouraging looks, and his mate’s smile, and to some miracle… he relaxes. He eases himself into shooting arrows at the target again, Felicity standing just behind him with her hand resting on the small of his back. Oliver strikes the bullseye continuously as he shoots, and he finds that he’s beginning to enjoy himself. The shutter clicks of the camera somewhere to the side of him aren’t important anymore, and he barely notices them - instead, the archer focuses on the targets in front of him, and his mate’s fingers dancing over his shoulder blades.

By the time that they’re finished, Eliza looks thrilled. She says that the photos have come out perfectly. Oliver doesn’t look at them, opting to fetch all of his arrows and put them back into his quiver instead, but he catches a glimpse of Felicity gazing at them on the camera’s digital screen, and there is a gleeful, proud glint in her blue eyes and a beaming smile on her face, so they must look good. Once the photos have Moira and Walter’s approval as well, Eliza claps her hands happily and packs her equipment away. Oliver is just relieved that there will be no more photo-shoots in the near future, and that they’re done for the day. It was only due to the Felicity being at his side that he was able to stand there for so long without getting antsy.

The press release will be at noon, Eliza informs them. She will call as soon as the statement goes public, and keep them updated with the media response. She departs then, offering a quiet goodbye to the Bellator, which he returns just as hesitantly, but holding his hand out for her to shake. She looks surprised for a moment, but then the woman shakes his hand with a respectful nod, before walking away, back to meet with Terry.

Nudging his side, Felicity wraps her arm around his and rests her chin on his shoulder, on top of the leather jacket. “You did amazing,” she praises, quickly going on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m really proud of you.”

“We are as well,” Walter says, striding over with back straightened, but a small smile on his lips as he nods. “Thank you for having such patience with Eliza and Terry, Oliver.” Looking impressed, he adds, “Very nice shooting. I can see why the media has been calling you the best archer on the planet.”

Felicity perks up. “They’ve been calling him that?” At Walter’s nod, she grins and taps Oliver’s chest, sounding triumphant as she repeats, “Best archer on the planet, hun.” Tugging his arm, his mate murmurs happily, “Come on, let’s head inside. We can eat lunch whilst watching the news. Do you want to change?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replies, chuckling.

“Great! Walter, Moira, you coming?”

His mother exchanges a glance with the British human, and Oliver is struck with a sense of discomfort. Moira has been sending out chemo signals for a while now that reek of perturbation and irritation, which has made the Bellator anxious, whilst the male has been displaying nothing but solace and reassurance, trying to support the archer. Felicity narrows her eyes beside him, her hand tightening around his for a moment as her drags her gaze between the two older humans.

“We’ll just be a moment, dear,” Walter responds, his voice somewhat tight. “I just need to talk to Moira about something.”

“Oh! Okay,” Felicity answers, somewhat flustered. “Alright, we’ll see you inside later then.” Oliver tries to sniff at them again curiously, wanting to what exactly they’ll be talking about, but Felicity drags him away back into the house. When he shoots her a look and attempts to tug away, thinking that maybe he could stay behind and eavesdrop behind a curtain or something, she shakes her head with a small smile and says quietly, “Come on, Oliver, let’s let them talk in peace.”

He relents, and follows her through the corridors, switching his bow between his hands as he questions, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

Felicity sighs, turning back to him with a raised eyebrow. “If I had to hazard a guess,” she says dryly, “They’re probably discussing you.”

He can tell he’s turning red because of the heat that he can feel in his cheeks. “Oh.”

Slowly, a cross between a smirk and a smile spreads across his mate’s face. Before he knows what’s happening, Felicity has him backed up against the wall, and she’s flush against him, making Oliver feel almost faint. Flashing him a cheeky grin, she murmurs softly, “You looks so cute with that blush.”

A possessive growl erupts from his throat and he anchors his hips to hers by wrapping an arm around her waist. “Should we resume what we were doing earlier?”

She purrs. He leans down, caressing her lower back with his hand as he quickly turns them around, so he’s pressing her into the wall with another rumbling growl, wanting nothing more but to crash his lips into hers and kiss her until they’re both dizzy.

“You’re _mine_.” The territorial growl he emits is a continuous deep, resonant noise like distant thunder, and the fact that Felicity shudders at the sound of it thrills him, adrenalin pumping through his blood. “Felicity…”

“Hmm?” she hums, her eyes dark as she gazes up at him.

Leaning in, his lips brush her ear as he whispers, “I love you.” Once again, Felicity shudders, a heavy gasp escaping as she grips his hips. Growling, he repeats, “I love you. I love you.” He ducks down to press kisses to her chin and jawline, satisfied when her hands clutch at his arms desperately.

But just as they’re about to meet in a kiss and Oliver is going to press his knee between her legs - “ _OH HOLY SHIT THAT IS SOMETHING I NEVER NEEDED TO SEE OH GOD._ ”

Oliver snarls furiously at the interruption whilst Felicity squeaks, obviously mortified as she jumps out of the archer’s arms, “Thea, you can’t just walk in without knocking!”

“It’s a corridor!” Thea screeches. “I couldn’t knock!” She’s scrubbing at her eyes with her fingers angrily, barely a few feet away from the pair when Oliver turns to face her, levelling his sister with an annoyed glare. “Jesus, I need eye soap. I need the equivalent of bleach for my mind. That is something I never needed to see. Ever. Why, Oliver? _WHY?_ ”

He barely blinks at her, and shooting Felicity a look so she can still see the heat within his gaze, and his sheer desire to push her up against the wall and take her with a kiss once again, he says lowly, “I’m not apologising.”

“Urgh.” Thea wrinkles her nose up, still refusing to make eye contact with them both. “Just… reduce the number of PDAs. Please? For the sake of my sanity. For the sake of everybody here.”

Felicity seems to take pity on her, snickering as she replies, “Sure, Thea.”

Shaking herself, his sister crosses her arms. “Okay, back to why I was actually walking through here in the first place - have you seen Mom and Walter?”

“They’re just outside,” Oliver tells her. Nodding, Thea moves to walk off, but the Bellator catches her arm, immediately letting go to give her space when she casts a confused glance towards him. “Um… I’m sorry about that.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “I’m happy for you two,” she says. “But I really don’t want to walk in to a room to see my brother eating his girlfriend’s face.” Stalking off, she calls, “Please restrain yourselves, if you can.”

“We’ll try,” Felicity shouts back. Once Thea’s vanished, she turns back to Oliver and whispers with a wink, “No promises, though.”

They head off to have lunch then, and Tommy, Diggle, Lyla, Caitlin and Laurel join them. They eat sandwiches with little packets of potato chips that Raisa manages to find within the kitchen cupboards. According to Thea, once she returns, Moira never lets them eat in the living room, so she encourages them to make a picnic out of it on the couches. It’s sort of strange for the Bellator to be seated on the floor in his Arrow suit, leaning back against the couch with Felicity huddled in on one side of him, and Thea on the other, eating sandwiches whilst watching the news. It is, however, incredibly calming and relaxing, a stark difference to what his morning had been like.

Lunch becomes even better when Lance walks in, announcing that he’s brought Big Belly Burger vanilla shakes for everybody with a massive grin on his face. Oliver flails excitedly on the floor as Felicity stands to get their cups. It may not be coffee, but he still absolutely loves them. His enthusiasm makes everybody laugh, which causes him to preen, happily sipping on his milkshake.

Exactly at noon, the news announces a breaking story. They begin talking about the announcement by QC about Oliver Queen being alive, and he is the Starling Vigilante, the endangered creature currently living in and protecting the city. As soon as the anchors begin discussing the story in more depth, Moira and Walter slide in, saying that the tailors have arrived to fit the Bellator for a suit and a tux. It definitely distracts Oliver. It’s sneaky, and the archer immediately tags onto their plan to get him away from the screens and stop him from watching the broadcast to hear how the humans are reacting to the reveal. However, he doesn’t really mind - people talking about him as if he isn’t there, massively unsettles him. He would like a distraction.

Felicity talks to him all throughout the fitting of a suit and a tux, her babbling so adorable and random that a grin remains plastered on his face the entire time. It flies by, thanks to her, and the tailors leave, telling his mother they will have the suit and tux ready by the evening.

He dresses back into jeans and a shirt and then he and his mate rejoin the group. According to Laurel and Lance, the media and the public are reacting to the reveal relatively positively. He doesn’t watch any newsfeed, and he doesn’t have access to the internet, so he can’t determine whether they’re telling the truth or not.

“Everybody wants to know more,” Tommy says, leaning against the wall. “They’re calling for interviews, wanting you on talk shows - people are going crazy for your story, Oliver.”

“Is that a good thing?” he asks hesitantly. He’s been utterly confused since this whole thing started, trying to observe the others for their reactions, and he desperately hopes that things are going well, not that he’d be able to understand if they weren’t.

Lance shrugs. “Guess it could be. If the public want more, that kinda suggests they’re reserving judgement at the moment. Nothing negative has come up so far, at least - the police have withdrawn from the taskforce tracking you, and the courts have expressed that they’re all in your favour so far.”

“Any response from Price and the conservation?” Felicity questions, her fingers brushing across Oliver’s collarbone as she stands behind him, where the Bellator is curled up on the couch cushions.

“Nothing yet,” Laurel informs them. “I think they’re a little busy avoiding angry mobs. A lot of the public are not very happy hearing about how they’ve been treating Oliver.”

“So are we going ahead with the gala?” Thea looks between them all.

“I think so,” Walter confirms. “It would be the perfect opportunity for some trusted members of the press to meet Oliver, and for them to maybe have a few interviews with us all. The photo-shoot was also particularly popular, people very much like the photos of Oliver in his leathers shooting arrows, so more pictures of him out there, interacting with people, would help his case a lot.”

“It won’t take long to put it together,” Moira says, clasping her hands together. She looks quite joyful at the idea of holding a gala at the mansion with her family. “We could easily put something together for tonight. I’ll call our party coordinators and have Raisa contact the caterers and decorators. Mr Diggle, would you please handle security?”

“Lyla and I will sort it,” Diggle nods.

Oliver swallows in his place, blue eyes flickering between all of his friends and family, as he asks cautiously, “Do you need me to do anything?”

Caitlin pipes up before anybody else can speak, firmly responding, “You should rest, Oliver. The gala will be very stressful for you, even with Felicity at your side, and you should take some time to mentally prepare.”

“Of course,” Moira agrees. “You should take a nap, sweetheart.”

With his friends and family murmuring their agreement, Oliver gives in and turns to Felicity, smiling softly. The two of them are about to head upstairs, hand in hand, when Moira calls, “Actually, dear, could I please speak with Felicity for a moment?”

They pause, exchanging looks. “Okay,” the Bellator replies.

There is a beat of silence, and then Moira emphasises, “Alone.”

His mate looks taken back for a moment. “Oh. Uh, okay.” When Oliver gives a worried rumble, she reassures, “It’s alright, Oliver, you go on upstairs. This won’t take long.”

“I can stay with you if you want,” he offers.

“No, it’s fine,” Felicity whispers, quickly pecking a kiss on his cheek, stroking the side of his face, which makes his mother shift uncomfortably behind her. “Go on up. I’ll bring some tea or something to help you nap if you want.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

Caitlin hurries in from the living room at that point. “Sorry to bother you two, I just need to talk to you - oh, I’m sorry, Moira, was I interrupting?”

“Never been so popular before,” Felicity jokes, although she has a rather concerned expression on her face. “Moira and I just need to talk for a moment, but if you go up with Oliver, Cait, I’ll meet you both soon.”

Caitlin takes the dismissal, resting a hand on the Bellator’s shoulder as she urges him towards the staircase. “Okay, see you in a minute.”

About half way up the stairs, Oliver casts a longing look back down at his mate, his brow furrowing as he twists in the doctor’s grip, wanting to get down to her, the resonating, echoing claim of _mine, mine, mine, must protect mine_ , ringing through his skull, but Caitlin’s grip is relentless and she forces him to walk on. He struggles slightly, feeling very uneasy at leaving her behind, every instinct yelling at him to go back to her, but he goes against that somehow and follows his doctor instead, despite the sick feeling it causes in his stomach.

He hears Felicity question in a stiff, cold voice, “What do you want to talk about, Mrs Queen?” before his bedroom door slams shut, and he is cut off from his mate.

All he can do now is wait for her return.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) Hope you enjoyed. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!
> 
> Game for the comments this week: Headcanon for how Bellator Oliver would spend the holidays with Felicity, his friends and family.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	22. The Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Oliver have a short chat before Felicity rejoins them for another. Preparations finish, and the gala begins, with one of the guests attending startling Oliver. And not in a good way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws the chapter into public and vanishes back into my cave*
> 
> *quickly darts back out to say a quick thank you to everybody who is supporting the fic and me as a writer, because they are awesome human beings*
> 
> *also quickly darts back out to give the trigger warnings for this chapter*
> 
> **TW:** Discussion of Male Pregnancy. Again. And discussion of mental health.

* * *

He stands for a few minutes, completely still, staring at the door. His insides are writhing uncomfortably, and he’s anxious for Felicity to return to his side. Inhaling sharply, Oliver allows each exhale to escape his mouth slowly and shallowly. The Bellator remains poised in the same position for another few seconds before he is startled out of his thoughts by a hand cautiously landing on his arm.

“Oliver? I’ve called your name six times now,” Caitlin informs him, her gaze scrutinising and concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” He turns her way for a brief second to flash a fake, reassuring smile, before he quickly turns back to the door, eyes fixed on it intently as he waits for the doorknob to twist to signify his mate’s arrival.

“Oliver.” Caitlin’s tightening grip on his arm as she tries to pull him away from the door causes a deep rumble to escape his chest in protest, but he manages not to lash out in instinct, simply levelling her with a confused and irritated glare. “You’re standing there, frozen, as if you’re stalking some sort of prey. Felicity will be up here soon, I promise. She’s fine.” Narrowing her eyes, the doctor says softly, “If you don’t like being separated from her, that’s understandable.”

“I should be down there with her,” he says firmly. “I should be -” He shakes his head.

Caitlin tilts her head sideways, looking at him with a hard, calculating gaze. Nodding to herself, she pulls out a chair for herself to sit down on and points at the end of the bed, ordering, “Sit.” When he hesitates, she reassures, “Felicity will be here soon, Oliver. I just want to draw some more blood and then ask you a few questions. The real conversation will begin once she’s here.”

Casting one last longing look back towards the door, Oliver sits, kicking his legs back and forth anxiously as he strips off his Arrow jacket and rolls up the long sleeved black t-shirt he has underneath to expose the crook of his elbow. He can’t help but fidget as Caitlin draws his blood again, leaning around her every so often to get a glimpse of the door, hoping every second that Felicity will appear there magically. The doctor must be able to somehow sense his agitation, because she tries to distract him by talking.

“Oliver, I’ve noticed, and a lot of the others have as well, that you’ve been quite possessive and protective over Felicity these last few days,” Caitlin notes, her eyes flicking up to his face from where she was focused on drawing blood. “Have you been having those kind of thoughts about her, considering that she’s your mate?”

He shifts awkwardly. “I guess so,” he mumbles. “When you put it that way.”

“More so since we arrived at the Queen mansion?

He shrugs. Caitlin raises an eyebrow. “I suppose that since we came here, I’ve felt a little out of place, so I have been… clingy,” the Bellator mutters. “There are a lot of unknown variables at the moment and with everything going on with the media, I feel… overwhelmed. Maybe even intimidated. So I’m trying to keep her close to me so that I can easily neutralise any threats to her.”

The doctor finishes off the draw and gently extracts the needle, packing the blood away into the small portable cooler she apparently keeps in her bag, as if that’s normal. “Oliver, this may be a very uncomfortable question for you,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. It’s just a yes, no, or don’t want to say answer.”

“Okay,” he replies warily.

“Do you think it’s possible that you have this possessive and protective nature towards your mate due to… psychological reasons?” He goes still again, staring at her, not knowing how exactly to reply. Caitlin must take his silence for unwillingness to answer, because she sighs and says, “Oliver, look. We discussed the other night that you have some post traumatic stress. Anxiety and depression. Mental illnesses like that can affect your cognitive responses and perception, which can result in erratic or unusual behaviour. Now, I have no idea whether or not it’s in a Bellator’s nature to be possessive and protective as you have been over Felicity, but there is a good chance that behaviour has been amplified due to your mental state. I am not a psychologist by any long shot, but at the moment I’m the only medical professional available to you. As your doctor, your physical, emotional and mental healths are my responsibilities. If you’re able to talk a little bit to me about how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, I’ll be able to help. We might be able to begin a treatment plan.”

He doesn’t realise he’s shrunk into himself, sweaty hands fumbling nervously, until Caitlin leans forwards and sets a gentle hand on his knee, her expression calm and encouraging. “I know you’re an introvert, Oliver. That you don’t like talking about your emotions, or opening up to people. Nobody could blame you for that, after what you’ve suffered through. But you honestly do not have to go through this alone. A lot of us are worried about you, Felicity included.”

He shakes his head, fingers twitching as he croaks out, “I don’t think I’d be able to make myself talk about -”

“You don’t have to,” the doctor reassures quickly. “Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Nobody here is going to make you. We could easily devise a treatment plan where you don’t need to tell us any of the details of what happened to you. Although I would recommend that you speak to Felicity about one or two of those things, okay?” He nods, running a shaking hand through his hair. She smiles, patting his knee. “That’s great, Oliver. Do you think you can answer my original question now?”

He narrows his eyes and thinks for a moment. Trying to remember _why_ it’s so vital that he protect Felicity, that she be by his side always, that she isn’t allowed to be alone with other people. There is a sharp twinge at the back of his mind, making him wince, and he realises with a hiccup of a gasp that it must be a suppressed memory. “It’s psychological,” he whispers. “Back when I was at… _that place_. I… wasn’t alone,” he admits.

Caitlin doesn’t react beyond smiling sadly. “I figured,” she answers. “There are other Bellators, and the logical conclusion is that all of you were made at the same facility, by the same people. Tommy and Laurel might also have mentioned that when they showed you pictures of the other Bellators in captivity, you recognised a few of them.”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved he doesn’t have to explain much more. “It might be something… to do with that.”

Caitlin leans back in her chair, crossing her ankles as she runs her eyes over his face scrutinisingly, before suggesting, “If you had close friends there and the people there hurt them, or one of them died, that might explain the possessiveness and protectiveness. The guilt and helplessness of the moment would stay with you now, if the incident was particularly traumatic.”

“I did have close friends there,” he confesses quietly, examining his fingernails intently so he doesn’t have to meet her gaze. “I can’t remember any incidents where any of them were severely hurt or any of them died but… that’s not saying anything. I was away for five years, and three and a half of those years, I can’t remember anything about.”

The doctor nods slowly. “How do you feel we could possibly make it easier for you? Make you more comfortable in this environment? You mentioned that you’ve been feeling intimidated and overwhelmed since the entire media release began… I can’t imagine you’ll feel any better at the gala tonight. Is there anything that you can think of that we could do to help you?”

He turns his head slightly to the side, his brow furrowing as he thinks. It’s a loaded question, one that makes his heart clench. They’re trying to help him. They’re offering him help, asking how he could be more comfortable. He can finally ask for them to put measures in place that would make him feel safe, able to relax.

“Oliver -”

“Give me a second,” he says firmly. “I’m trying to figure something out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

After another minute, Oliver raises his head, expression set with determination. “Tonight, I don’t want to be alone. For a second. And I want Felicity to be in my eye line at all times if she’s not by my side. I want everybody who comes to be vetted by Lyla and Diggle, and I don’t want any photos or videos taken of me without my express permission. I don’t want alcohol there, it lowers inhibition, and I’d like Lance to have a police unit on standby in case something happens.” Finishing, he cringes immediately, risking a wary glance up at Caitlin, expecting to see her gaping in shock or looking angry.

The doctor, to his surprise, appears suitably impressed. She’d pulled a notebook out and began scribbling notes as he spoke, but now she snaps it shut, giving him a smile that comes off more as a smirk. “I’ll speak with Moira, Walter, John and Lyla and get it arranged,” she agreed. “And just so that you’re aware, Thea, Tommy and Felicity have been taking several pictures of you and posting them on Instagram. The public want to see and know more about you, and that way they can control the exposure. I’ll talk to them about informing you when they post things, if you’d like.”

He nods, rolling the sleeves of his t-shirt back down. “Thank you,” he responds, voice sincere.

“Also, random question,” Caitlin says, now avoiding his gaze entirely, which just makes Oliver narrow his eyes in suspicion. “Just my sheer curiosity, but I was wondering if… the scientists in the facility where you were experimented on, did they ever stray into experimenting with, well, superpowers?”

Oliver blinks at her, repeating incredulously, “Superpowers.”

“Yes.” Now the doctor is squirming somewhat uncomfortably, although she keeps the tone of her voice carefully casual. “We know that the Bellators have enhanced strength, senses, quicker healing, that sort of thing, but I was just wondering if other more unusual powers were ever investigated.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… invisibility, flight... Super speed.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining her reactions closely as Oliver answers slowly, “Not that I can remember, no.”

Caitlin smiles, as if everything is back to normal, her usual chipper self as she responds brightly, “Okay, then, just a thought.”

Before Oliver can open his mouth to ask why exactly she is so interested in the idea of Bellators having powers beyond what enhancements they’d received, the bedroom door slams open and Felicity storms in, fury in her eyes and her movements stiff and tense. Oliver makes a happy noise, perking up as she appears, but then when he catches onto her anger within a few seconds he allows a low growl of support to escape his throat. Caitlin appears very startled at being caught in the middle of a Bellator mate thing, backing away quite slowly when Felicity turns back to Oliver with a blazing look and rumbles back at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks tightly, striding over to him and settling her hands on his waist. The immediate contact helps Oliver relax instantly, and he breathes out, chuffing affectionately as his mate checks him over. “I could sense your discomfort a few minutes ago.”

“Sorry, that was my fault,” Caitlin offers from the side. “I had to draw some blood and then I was just asking Oliver some awkward questions.”

Felicity huffs, shooting her a hard look, apparently irritated by the idea of her mate being made to feel unsure, but her gaze softens when Caitlin frowns at her, confused at why she’s on the end of Felicity’s wrath. “Last blood tests were inconclusive?” she questions.

Caitlin shrugs. “More like I need to keep taking samples to monitor his hormone production levels and whether or not they increase. It’s just for comparison. Nothing to worry about yet. How was your conversation with Moira?”

A dark snarl is all both the doctor and Oliver get in reply aloud, but the Bellator can sense the underlying frustration and anger that his mate is restraining within herself, and it sets his teeth on edge, urging him to go and comfort her. He rumbles gently in an attempt to soothe her, but Felicity just paces, grumbling and muttering under her breath.

“Not well, I assume,” the doctor answers her own question dryly.

“I thought we could be patient with her,” Felicity growls, shaking her head and still pacing, although she does come to a brief halt when Oliver reaches out desperately to hold her hand. Brushing her fingers over his, she lowers her voice as she continues, “I thought it might have been the initial shock of getting her son back, and then maybe jealousy that she didn’t have your full attention, because of us being so close - but even if that is her reason to be insecure, I don’t care anymore. She had no right to say to me what she did.”

Oliver doesn’t even have to guess. “She said that you’re a bad influence on me,” he says. “And that you’re manipulating and influencing me. That I’m trapped, when I’m around you. She wants you to leave.”

Felicity barks her laughter sharply, her eyes two blue ice chips of barely restrained anger. “Yep. I think I would have decked her if Walter and Thea hadn’t intervened. They’re down there talking to her right now.”

“They’ll sort it out,” Caitlin reassures her. “Walter has that British charm about him that he can convince anybody that he’s right, and Thea will have sway with her mother. You won’t be leaving anytime soon, Felicity.”

“Damn right I won’t,” his mate hisses, satisfied that she has the support of the Bellator and Caitlin.

“And if you leave, I’m leaving too,” Oliver tells her firmly, squeezing her hand.

“Excellent,” Felicity says, finally managing a smile. She visibly calms herself, taking a seat on the bed next to Oliver and pressing her shoulder into his, whilst asking Caitlin, “So, what is it you’d like to talk to the two of us about?”

Caitlin sobers immediately, the small grin that had been playing at her lips at seeing the two of them interact instantly disappearing, a grim expression on her face. “Bad news. Cisco called me; STAR Labs records were hacked in the early hours of this morning. Took the hackers several hours to get past the several layers of firewalls you put up, Felicity, but they used what Cisco called the digital equivalent of a battering ram; he said it was terribly bad sport and they were cheating. He suspects it was the conservation, just because the only records viewed and copied were the results of Oliver’s blood draws over the last few days. I never labelled them as specifically being yours, but their scientists would have recognised Bellator DNA, so they’ll know they’re yours.”

It doesn’t take long for all of the information to piece together within Oliver’s mind so he can make a valid, and alarming, conclusion. “Price and the conservation know about my possible pregnancy.”

“Yes,” Caitlin replies bluntly. “Cisco’s secured all of the records on a private server now, and any more records I take will be placed on that server, so we’ll be safe from today onwards, but it would be naive to think that they didn’t catch only the hormone levels in your blood analysis.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Felicity asks.

There isn’t anything that Oliver can think of. If they have the records, they have the records. Even if Felicity hacked in to remove them, the scientists and Price would have still seen them. They know, and they’re just going to have to deal with that fact, even though the Bellator is struck with fear at the thought of the conservation possibly retaliating and attempting to take him back into their custody, acting on their new-found knowledge.

“Not really,” Caitlin sighs. “Felicity, if you could put up some more firewalls around STAR Labs servers and maybe even around the Queen mansion’s security servers, that would be some help. I’m going to ask Diggle and Lyla to increase the security around the mansion.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Felicity groans.

Caitlin shoots her a look. “But…” she shakes her head. “I want to keep Lyla’s involvement in this as minimal as possible.”

Crossing his arms, Oliver cocks his head sideways, observing her expression and body language intensely. It doesn’t take him long to realise why the doctor has that particular view, calling out his deduction, but adding a questioning tone: “You don’t trust Lyla.”

“No, I don’t,” Caitlin agrees.

“Why not?” his mate asks.

“You remember how I mentioned that Lyla isn’t part of the conservation? How she’s on loan from another government organisation? I think she might have ulterior motives. We don’t know whether or not she’s providing information about us to her superior, whoever that may be. We’re giving her access to a lot of sensitive information about Oliver, and I think we’ve been too lenient on doing background checks on the people within our inner circle.”

To be fair, Caitlin does have a point.

“I’ll do some this afternoon,” Felicity informs her. “Oliver can have a nap and I’ll do some research.”

“Good idea,” the doctor nods. Giving them a small smile, she adds, “I’ll leave you two be. Oliver, I’ll speak to Diggle and the others about the measures you’d like to be taken for tonight.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “See you later.”

Caitlin departs from the bedroom, leaving Oliver alone with his mate, and he snuffles tiredly into Felicity’s collarbone as she pushes him back against the bed, whispering at him to get some rest. He knows his mate will remain by his side as he sleeps, so Oliver is okay with curling up in the nest of blankets and pillows on their shared bed, drifting off to sleep. His sleep, for once, is restful, with no night terrors plaguing him, and he awakes two hours after falling asleep. Oliver blinks blearily up at Felicity, his head pillowed on her stomach and arms wrapped around her waist as he watches her type on her laptop, tongue stuck out in concentration. She only turns her attention to him to smile and ruffle his hair when he purrs quietly, nuzzling her clothes.

“How was your nap?” she asks fondly, one of her hands stroking over his shoulder blades whilst she continues coding with the other.

“Good,” he hums. “No nightmares. How did your firewalls and background checks go?”

“Okay. STAR and the Queen’s private servers are all more secure than the CIA’s at the moment, and everybody we know is clear, although Laurel has some left over student loan debt. Caitlin was right, though, Lyla is definitely an unknown variable, I can’t access any of her employment records for the last five years without hitting some serious government encryption. We’ll have to keep an eye on her. I’ll ask Diggle to keep a close watch.” She brightens up considerably as she points across the room. “Oh! Your tux arrived, Laurel brought it up earlier.”

Curious, he slips off the bed and pads quietly over to the corner, where the tux is hanging from a peg in a garment bag. Examining it indifferently, he quickly tests the feel of the fabric and the length of the sleeves before leaving it, far more interested in Felicity typing out her code.

“You like it?” she asks curiously, glancing up at him briefly before turning back to her screen.

He shrugs. “It’s okay.”

A smile plays at Felicity’s lips as she hums, “Hmm…”

“What will you be wearing?” Oliver questions, shifting on his feet.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A dress?”

“Most likely.”

“What colour?”

“It’s a surprise!” He pouts, but Felicity just chuckles, finally shutting her laptop screen to slip to her feet, sliding up towards him so she can inch her hands around the Bellator’s waist, resting her chin against his chest. “You’ll get to see soon. It’s nearly five, we need to start getting ready. The doors for the gala open at seven.”

Grumbling slightly, Oliver nuzzles down into her blonde hair. “That’s two hours away.”

“And it will take me at least an hour to do my make-up,” Felicity sighs, rubbing her thumb along his spine, and smiling apologetically when she pulls back from his chest, prompting him to whine. “You’re a little mucky from all the archery earlier, and we don’t want to ruin your tux, so… go and take a shower, please.”

A mischievous grin overtakes his face as the Bellator takes a step forward, a purr vibrating in his chest as he says, “Why don’t you make me?”

She rolls her eyes, giving him a playful shove. “Stop it, mister.”

“Join me,” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows.

“We both know that if I joined you in that shower, no actual cleaning would be going on, Oliver. Behave,” she chides gently. “Now, go and take a shower.”

“Yes, boss,” he mutters, feeling slightly admonished as he heads towards the bathroom.

The sound of his mate making a surprised, yet appreciative noise has him quickly glancing back over his shoulder to flash her a cheeky grin, before ducking inside the bathroom. This time, he savours his time under the hot spray, enjoying the water rippling over his bare back and numbing his scars before he stumbles out, rather lightheaded. All the tension has been wrung out of Oliver’s shoulders by the hot water, and he pulls on fresh boxers before creeping his way back into the bedroom. Much to the Bellator’s disappointment, however, his mate doesn’t seem overly flustered by his half-naked, flushed, wet appearance, just raising her eyebrow with a smirk.

Felicity vanishes into the bathroom herself, warning him quietly that she’ll be a while. Oliver doesn’t know exactly why she’s going to take so much time getting ready, and especially is confused by her statement about her make-up taking an hour. He’s just finished putting on his tux, which whilst is comfortable, is also quite confining and a little too stiff for his limbs, when Thea lets herself into the bedroom, demanding that he let her ‘fix’ his hair. This involves her running her hands through his hair with a strange smelling sticky gel on her fingers, which Oliver keeps trying to yank her arm down to sniff at suspiciously, much to his sister’s irritation.

He’s observing himself closely in the full-length mirror, slowly turning from side to side to examine himself in his new tux, with Thea fussing over his bow tie, when a soft knock on the door sounds, and Caitlin sticks her head in. Her hair has been curled into loose ringlets and she’s wearing a very nice blue dress. Thea waves her over, rushing out to get ready herself and asking the doctor to take over.

She briefs Oliver swiftly, telling him about the security arrangements they’ve made for the gala. No pictures will be allowed to be taken by any reporters, the only photographer at the event being Eliza. Oliver will be escorted by a member of the team at all times, and will not be left alone to be preyed upon by opportunistic journalists. People with a bright green wristband on are safe and approved to talk to, whilst with the others, Oliver isn’t obligated to say anything. Later on during the gala, there will be two interviews given to some previously vetted journalists, but Oliver will have Felicity, Diggle, Moira and Caitlin there with him. If he feels ill, tired, or upset at all during the event, he can leave at any time.

By the time she’s finished, and passing Oliver his socks and shoes, Tommy arrives to say that they’re ready for them downstairs. Felicity calls out from the bathroom she’ll be ten more minutes, and to go without her. It’s already quarter past seven.

The ringing of laughter and a string quartet’s melodic music strikes the Bellator’s ears as soon as he exits the bedroom, somewhat grumpy and reluctant to leave his mate behind, although he knows that Felicity will be joining them soon. His family and friends are waiting at the bottom of the staircase, all dressed impeccably. Oliver grits his teeth as their chemosignals of anxiety and concern hit him, making him wrinkle his nose unhappily.

“Looking good there, buddy,” Tommy says, grinning. He’s dressed in his own black tux, but his bow tie is a dark green colour, matching the shade of his Arrow suit. “Never thought I’d see you in a suit again.”

“Thank you,” he blushes, turning to the rest of the group and informing them, “You all look wonderful.”

Moira nods in approval, striding over and running her eyes up and down her son, making Oliver shift awkwardly. He levels a glare at her, angry after hearing how she tried to separate him and Felicity, but if his mother notices it, she doesn’t react. “I like what you’ve done with his hair, Thea.”

His little sister beams. She’s in a very tight fitting navy blue dress, hair pulled back into a neat bun. “It’s grown out long enough to put gel in it. It was Tommy’s suggestion.”

“How many people are in there?” Oliver asks, changing the subject suddenly but wracked with nerves about how this evening is going to go. He leans around Diggle and Lyla, trying to catch a glimpse inside the living room, where voices and laughter can be heard.

“Around three dozen or so,” Walter informs him, dusting off his lapels elegantly. “We’ll be with you ever step of the way.” Checking his watch, the male noted, “It’s nearing half seven, we should probably make our entrance. May I ask where Felicity is?”

“Here!”

Oliver whips around at the sound of his mate’s voice, and immediately goes still, his breathing hitching. He knows that he doesn’t look anything like a fierce and mighty Bellator in that moment, with his eyes as round as plates and jaw hanging, but he can’t help it. Felicity looks _beautiful_. She’s wearing a sleeveless, zip-detailed red dress that reaches her mid thigh, with a cut at the bottom of it that exposes most of her left leg. All of the bare skin she is showing makes Oliver tremble, and he very much hopes that the others don’t notice how _affected_ he is, seeing his mate like this. As soon as Felicity reaches the bottom step, Oliver sweeps forwards and slinks up to her, pressing his hips against hers as he drops a chaste kiss to her lips, which she smiles into.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs huskily into her ear, before forcing himself to pull away, in case he spontaneously decides to do something with that zipper leading to the dress’ cut that he might regret. 

“Thanks,” she replies, tilting her head with a wicked grin. She absolutely knows what she’s doing to him, teasing him with a smirk and a hand trailing delicately down his arm. Brushing her thumb across his cheek, she adds, “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you very much,” the archer replies, nodding gratefully. Leaning in, Oliver whispers, “Hey. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she smiles, going on tiptoe to press another kiss to his mouth. He barely gets to savour it before she drops back down, asking, “Are you ready for this?”

He huffs, muttering, “I guess so. Can I get a kiss for good luck?”

“Alright, you too, that’s enough PDAs for today,” Thea interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Acting like a pair of horny teenagers…”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Lance comments dryly, causing all the other adults to chuckle.

“I am not a horny teenager!” Thea protests, affronted. “If this is about my date for tonight again -”

“Excuse me, your date for tonight?” Tommy cuts in, taking a step towards her with his arms crossed. There’s a frown marring his brow of disapproval, something Oliver empathises with. Must be a human, big brother sort of thing. Laurel, also, looks particularly worried. He wonders whether or not this is something that’s been an issue for them in the past, Thea and her mate choosing.

Thea shakes her head frustratedly. “Not you too.”

“Is it Roy Harper?” Oliver questions, because he is not stupid, and as a Bellator he has a rather acute sense of smell and is fairly good at deducing things, and earlier on he’d thought he’d caught a whiff of a family young human male’s scent.

Thea looks startled. “How did you…”

Turning to Tommy, the Bellator reassures, “It’s okay. Roy Harper is a good human. He saved Thea from that dirty police officer.”

“And that automatically makes him a good candidate to be our sister’s boyfriend?”

“No,” Oliver replies patiently. “But it means that we should give him a chance.”

“It’s time for us to make our entrance,” Moira announces, interrupting their conversation, which she apparently doesn’t care about. “Oliver, if you’d like to go first?”

He takes a deep breath, immediately reaching out for Felicity. His mate slips her hand into his, squeezing gently as they entwine their fingers. It’s time. He can do this. With Felicity beside him, he can do this. Vibrating with withheld energy, Oliver enters the living room with his chest buffed out and head raised, trying to maintain an air of confidence. An eerie silence settles over the newcomers and gala attenders for a few seconds, and the Bellator goes stock still as he tries to process all the threats, _human = danger_ blaring loudly in his mind. But after a moment, and stern glowers from Diggle, Lance, Moira and Walter, the people turn away and begin conversing again, although this time at a lower, more considerate volume.

To his surprise and shock, he actually finds that he’s enjoying the gala, after half an hour or so. Felicity stays pressed into his side, stroking up and down his spine whilst Moira introduces them to her friends, QC investors, people from the police force and some lawyers, with their green wristbands. He doesn’t have to speak much to them, only saying one or two words to answer their questions. They seem to realise he’s nervous around new human beings, so don’t question him very much, and they speak very quietly and softly to him. _How are you?_ Fine. _It must be so strange being back here._ Extremely different. _What is it like being another species?_ Very hard to describe. _How do you like the conservation?_ He hates them. _How does he like living with the Queens?_ It’s wonderful.

Caitlin notices him starting to get a little mentally tired after so much interaction and threat processing, and suggests he go to the back of the room with Felicity to take a short break. They sit on two chairs next to each other, observing for a while, the sharp twangs of the string quartet fading to the back of Oliver’s mind as he scrutinises al the humans in the vicinity. His eyes keep wandering back to that cut in Felicity’s dress, and she must notice, because there is a small smirk on her face whenever his gaze darts upwards to see her looking at him.

“Who’s that?” he questions, pointing at a man who he feels subconsciously he should recognise.

Felicity glances up from where she’s tracing code over his hands with her fingertips. “Oh, that’s Malcolm Merlyn. Tommy’s father.”

“Do I know him?”

“Well, I imagine you would have, when you were younger,” Felicity nods. “We’ll probably have to go and talk to him a bit later.”

“And who’s that?”

“Lieutenant Pike of SCPD. He works with Lance.”

“And who’s that?”

Felicity makes a small, amused noise. “Why don’t you go up and ask them?”

He frowns, disgruntled. “No, that involves unnecessary social interaction.”

His mate belts out such a loud laugh that it causes several people to shoot them weird looks, including Laurel, Thea and Walter. They don’t look alarmed, however, just appearing mostly resigned and entertained. “You’re adorable,” she chuckles, leaning over to place her hand on his knee and kiss his cheek, burrowing her head into his neck for a moment with a purr, before dotting a kiss on his lips and pulling away. Answering his question, she informs him, “That’s Jessica Danforth, one of your mom’s friends.”

“Okay. And who’s -”

He freezes.

He was planning on asking Felicity about a female who had just entered the room, in a long purple dress and an expression on her face that makes him feel antsy. But now… now Oliver feels like he doesn’t have to. Because he _knows her_. He recognises her, somehow. He doesn’t know her name, doesn’t know who she is or what she does or how and why she’s even at the gala. The memories are cloudy, hazy, but they’re slowly re-emerging, making him almost dizzy. He doesn’t realise that he’s leapt to his feet until Felicity gently urges him back into his chair, worried and concerned at how unsteady and shaky he is.

“What is it?” she asks sharply.

“Who -” his voice comes out as a croak. “That woman, who is she?”

“Wha -” Felicity whips around, catching sight of the female in the purple dress. “Why?”

“Who is she?” he insists, and he’s well aware how wild and desperate he sounds, but he needs to put a name to her face.

“Isabel Rochev. She’s the Vice President of Stellmoor International.” Observing his expressions, Felicity’s eyes widen as she gently prods through whatever weak mental bond they seem to have, sensing his emotions. “Oliver, you recognise her?”

“Yeah,” he answers, breathless, gaze fixed on that woman as she approaches his mother and Walter and begins talking to them.

“Where from?”

He turns to her, his voice trembling and sombre as he says, “She was _there_ , Felicity.”

Felicity swallows. “You mean she was… _there_ there?”

“She was there at the facility where they made us into Bellators,” Oliver nods, voice monotone as he struggles to rein in his feelings, his instinct to get the hell out of there, to run and never come back. “I - think that she…”

“What?”

He inhales sharply. “I think she tried to buy me.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Monday, my institution is celebrating **Honesty Day** whatever the hell that is, even though it's not the official Honesty Day...
> 
> So if you pop on over to any of my social media accounts, **Tumblr (@alexiablackbriar13)** or **Twitter (@lexiblackbriar)** , or even here, and ask me any questions, I will answer them as honestly as I possibly can.
> 
> I won't give away major spoilers but... there is a chance you could get your hands on some good minor ones ;)


	23. The Evocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver experiences a flashback to the facility, revealing how Rochev was first introduced into his life. His wake up call from it, however, is less than pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. First full chapter flashback. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> ... please don't hate me. You'll see.
> 
> (Also, Trigger Warnings: human degradation and dehumanisation. Discussion of male pregnancy. Discussion of topics similar to slavery.)

* * *

_He’d lost count of how long he’d been living in this enclosure. It could have been weeks, for all he knew. He’d attempted to keep a count of the days by sticking twigs upwards in a damp section of grass near one of the corners, but after six days, they must have realised what he’d been doing, because they removed the twigs every day he placed them, so he had no proper record of the amount of time he’d been caged up in this little pen of his._

_Surprisingly, they’d given him quite a generous amount of space. The enclosure was at least fifty metres by fifty metres, a piece of thinned out forest on a flat piece of Lian Yu’s limited land. It was cordoned off by security fences, the main one being an eight metre high electric chain link fence with barbed wire topping it, and there was another barbed wire chain link fence about five metres outside of that one, to ensure that if he did manage to get over the first obstacle, there would be another one in his way to give the guards enough time to stop him. Thin trees and low lying ferns and bushes mostly populated the ground, and there weren’t any large trees except the one in the very middle of the enclosure, far enough away from the fences that he wouldn’t be able to jump from the top most branches and get out. A small freshwater pool, that he was pretty sure was man made and filtered out, could be found on the western edge, and there were very small mammals and birds living with him, but he tried not to bother them very much. There were two entrances, one on each side, so that he never really knew which one they were going to use._

_It took a while to get used to the space. After what he assumed was months living in a tiny cell with his pack mates and sometimes, in a cage so small he had to crouch in it, having a piece of land that was his, took some getting used to. He set up camp, a den, at the top of the tallest tree, as that was the only place within the enclosure that wasn’t constantly under surveillance from CCTV cameras. The third day he had been in the enclosure, setting up his den by weaving a small waterproof mat to sleep on, the door on the opposite side had opened and by the time he had sprinted over there to see what was going on, the scientists had left, leaving a pile of thin, scratchy blankets behind. But thin, scratchy blankets were better than raw bark and fire ants, so he didn’t complain._

_They treated him well. He was fed twice daily, once in the morning when the sun just appeared through the surrounding trees, and once as the sun was setting. The food was okay, not the usual slop that he and the pack had been given during the experimental process and transforming. Meats, root vegetables and fruit. He hadn’t eaten it the first few days, afraid that it was drugged, but because of that, they’d hit him with a tranq dart and he’d woken up in a too-white-too-bright room with scientists forcing a horrible tasting liquid down his throat that made him choke. He ate the food after that, and drank from the freshwater pool. The scientists didn’t force-feed him in return._

_One of the main humans who watching him, observing him, the male keeper that had been in the room with him before and treated him like a pet, was trying to train him. Oliver wasn’t stupid - the keeper set up his feeding schedule, and he was trying to train him to react to certain things. He rang a small bell when the food was going to come, and there was a warning alarm to tell him that they wanted him back within the CCTV camera’s view. If he didn’t obey these rules, he was punished. Nothing too major, but one of the guards very much liked the way that he twitched when struck with a cattle prod._

_After a while, though, when it seemed as if Oliver wasn’t ‘learning’ because of the cattle prod punishments, those were stopped. They wanted him in ‘prime condition’, whatever that meant. Instead, they shut him inside a dark box again. He listened after that, and he did what they wanted, but he HATED it, because they were training him like a dog, and treating him like an animal, and he WASN’T AN ANIMAL._

_Sometimes, the days were hard. He didn’t see a point in him being here, living pointlessly for them, to be their specimen and their show pony and pet, so he didn’t leave his den. The male always got angry with him when that happened. Because he didn’t eat, and he didn’t drink, and he didn’t clean himself, and they wanted him in ‘prime condition’. So when he didn’t look after himself and wallowed in depression, he would be hit with a tranq dart again and then, when he woke up on the ground near one of the doors of his enclosure, he would feel giddy and artificially happy, and he knew that they had drugged him._

_But there wasn’t anything that he could do. He seethed in silence, planned to kill them. One day, the keeper would slip up and leave the gate open when bringing his food in and he would be able to escape. One day, the male wouldn’t be able to get the door back open once shutting it, and he would be able to tear the human to pieces. He was hopeful. He would be opportunistic. All he had to do was wait. Be a good pet. Do as they wanted. Because one day, he would get out of here._

_Hopefully, get out of the enclosure and find his pack again. He hadn’t seen Sara, Shado and Slade in an age. He missed them. He would get depressed sometimes just thinking about them. He missed Sara’s soft purring, Shado’s gentle touches and Slade’s gruff attitude. He felt so lonely._

_He was left in peace, most days, which was why he was lonely. Sometimes he’d find himself sitting up in his tree, watching the guards curiously, wondering what they would do if he tried to speak to them. He was always punished if he talked. They didn’t like it. He supposed it didn’t fit in with the dumb animal view they had of him. The male who looked after him hated it, and occasionally he would hit him if he spoke, but the scientists seemed to be fascinated by it. He sometimes babbled to himself about his day, just happy to hear himself talk. The little experiments and games that the scientists came up for him, to exercise him physically and mentally sometimes helped resolve the boredom and loneliness. He knew they were just testing his intelligence, his abilities and senses, but it made him feel validated, completing their silly tasks. He would always get praised afterwards as well, and that was another part of their trying to train him, praising him after doing tricks, but he found himself actually liking it some days. Because he was lonely._

_One day, though, that all changed. Normally, when the bell was rung to signify feeding time, it was rung just after the keeper placed his food down and as he was heading back to the gate, to the exit. He would only dart out to grab the food once the gate was properly closed, because once he’d come out from the bushes too early and he’d been hit with the cattle prod, because they’d thought he was trying to escape. But this time, it was different. When the bell was rung, nobody had entered the enclosure yet._

_He was nervous. He hovered, crouched behind a crop of ferns, eyes flashing between the two gates, both of which were visible in this position. When nobody had entered two minutes after the bell had been rung, he began getting antsy, quiet whimpers erupting from his throat. Preparing to leave and head back to his den, he went still when he heard faint human voices. The male was approaching the gate nearest to him, with three other humans close behind them, two females and, to his shock, Anthony Ivo. The doctor who had helped him with his broken arm. All four of them seemed to be in deep discussion about something._

_“Where is it, then?” one of the females was saying, in an impatient tone. She was dressed nicely, in a knee length maroon dress and her dark hair was curled. He hadn’t seen somebody so well dressed in years. “I don’t see it.”_

_“He’s a male,” the keeper told her, his voice annoyed that this female wasn’t addressing him using the proper pronoun. “And he’s hiding, most likely in the bushes on the outskirts.”_

_“So he’s scared? I thought you said this was your best specimen,” the female hissed._

_“He is our best specimen. And as for him being scared - he is a little scared of humans, yes. That’s how we want it. We have respect for him, he has respect for us. He does what we’d like him to, and we leave him alone; he doesn’t, he gets punished. He’s a very curious little creature, but he’s bound to be a little confused why I summoned him for a feeding and I wasn’t there with the food when he turned up.”_

_The keeper had the tray on which his food arrived on in his hands and he perked up. He was hungry. But he didn’t want to come out into the open in front of these humans, so he shifted as quietly and subtly as he could, moving through the ferns to get a little closer, without revealing himself._

_“What was that? I heard rustling,” the other female, who hadn’t spoken yet, questioned._

_“Like I said, he’s curious. He’s watching us,” the keeper explained. “And he’s probably hungry, so let me just quickly drop his food off and then I can tell you about him.”_

_“Are you sure you should be going in there with him?” the other female asked, sounding worried. “I mean - you did just spend half an hour informing us about how deadly his species is.”_

_“Oh, he’s not going to hurt me,” the keeper assured her. Licking his lips, he tensed and observed closely as the human entered his enclosure, securely closing the door behind him, much to his disappointment, and leaving the humans outside, in the area between the two security fences. “He can be feisty at times, and fierce when he needs to be or when we want him to be, but he’s a good boy. First to complete his transformation, first to start his training.”_

_The keeper placed the tray down in its usual place and then backed off a few metres, waiting just by the fence. He could see that Ivo was silently making notes in a small book whilst the two females were craning their necks, obviously trying to get a glimpse of him. He rocked back on the balls of his feet with a short, quiet whine. He was hungry, and he wanted the food, but he also didn’t want to expose himself. And the keeper - he hadn’t left yet through the gate. Was this a trick? Were they wanting him to come out and get the food, so they could punish him like they usually did when he approached too early on?_

_“Why isn’t he coming out?” the haughty female asked, crossing her arms. “Is he_ shy?”

_Huffing irritatedly, the keeper called out in a falsely kind, friendly voice, “It’s okay, 141, you wanna come out and get the food? It’s okay, you can come out. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I brought you some visitors, do you like that? You wanna come and meet them?”_

_No, he did NOT want to go and meet them. He wanted to grab the food and then retreat to his den like he normally did. He hated being placed on display and paraded in front of potential investors and buyers. The two females had to be sponsors or customers. They wouldn’t be here, otherwise - they didn’t look like newly recruited scientists, or guards. They smelt far too clean, and their perfumes were far too rich._

_He made an angry, muttered noise at these ‘visitors’ keeping him from having his meal, and shifted again through the ferns, but this created a rustling that the keeper’s eyes were immediately drawn to. He froze as the human’s gaze landed on him, or what the human could see of him whilst hidden._

_“There you are,” the keeper said, tone so cheerful that it had to be fake. “You want to come out here, get your food and meet your visitors, like a good boy?” He hissed. The keeper’s brow furrowed, and shot him a faint glare. “Now, don’t be like that. Come here.” When he didn’t move, just glowered back, the keeper repeated, voice sterner now, “Come here, 141.”_

_He just shrunk lower within the ferns, chuffing unhappily. He didn’t want to go out there. And no threat of punishment was going to make him._

_“I’m sorry, ladies,” the keeper said, turning back to the two females. “He’s not usually this problematic. Normally he’s very well behaved and obedient.”_

_“Perhaps if you called him by his name, he would be more comfortable coming out,” Ivo suggested, clicking his pen and finally looking up._

_“He has a name?” the other female asked, standing up a little straighter. “You didn’t say you named your specimens.”_

_“We don’t,” the keeper gritted out. “Dr Ivo is referring to the name he had before the transformation process. His past identity. But he is not that person anymore - isn’t even human. We don’t name the specimens - you name an animal, and then you become sentimentally attached.” Sniffing, the male turned back to him to narrow his eyes, and he bared his teeth at him again unhappily. “I doubt he would remember his name, anyway. It hasn’t been used in months.”_

_His name. His NAME. He racked his brain, but always ended up falling short. His own name, how could he not remember his own NAME!? His name was his identity, his past and present and future, his family and his pack, and how could he not remember?! But then, it hit him. A twinge, starting at the back of his mind, and erupting into something bigger. A memory. Numerous kind, warm, friendly and familiar voices coming forwards. Calling his name. Faces, endless faces. His mother. His father. His little sister. Tommy. Laurel. Detective Lance. Sara. Slade. Shado. So many people. So many memories. How could he ever forget them? They were his friends, his… his family. And all of it had faded from his brain, somehow, despite the fact that - that was who he WAS. And the one thing, linking them all of it together - his name._

_“Oliver,” he croaked, not believing his own ears. Louder, he repeated, in a firmer, certain tone, “_ Oliver!”

_The haughty woman looked so startled it was almost comical. “Did he just speak?”_

_“I think he did,” the other woman confirmed, stunned as well._

_The keeper, however, was less thrilled. “Bad boy,” he growled, and Oliver - his name was OLIVER - sunk down to the floor, a fearful whimper coming from his chest. He was going to get punished, the male using that tone of voice always meant he was going to get punished. “Very bad boy.”_

_“Why is he a bad boy?” the other female asked, blinking rapidly._

_“He’s not meant to speak,” the keeper replied bitterly._

_“I think the fact that he can talk at all is something to be admired,” the haughty woman argued. “You didn’t mention this before. The ability to speak English, to understand English - that suggests a higher intelligence than you ever suggested in briefing.”_

_“Not all of the_ homo bellator custos _specimens have retained the ability to speak,” the keeper told them. “Very, very few specimens can still talk. 141 being one of them. We think that might be due to the speed of their transformation processes, and almost always it’s the specimens who have been kept within pack environments.”_

_“Pack environments, you mentioned that before.”_

_“Due to the high percentage of wolf DNA within the species, the specimens have the tendency to adopt classic wolf pack dynamics. Alphas, betas, omegas, that sort of thing. When 141 was in his pack environment, he would have been classed as a beta, but now, being alone, he’s presenting as an alpha.”_

_“What did he say his name was?”_

_“Don’t listen to him,” the keeper dismissed. “He’s an animal, he doesn’t know anything.”_

_“He knows how to speak,” the other woman said, voice firm. “That suggests a similarity to humans, don’t you think?”_

_“He is one of our more human specimens,” the keeper finally admitted. “Whilst he reacts to the tasks and tests we give him in a more primal nature, he is still mostly presenting human traits. Here, let me try and get him out into the open for you to take a look at him.”_

_The keeper began stomping towards him, and Oliver made a high pitched squeak of fear and tried to bolt, running for his tree. The male, however, must have anticipated he would do this, because he blocked Oliver off half way there and drove him back towards the gate where his food was, hand on the taser at his belt. Oliver hunched over and snarled, eyes wild and feral, and he only backed away when the human came closer and made a threatening gesture or movement towards him._

_Within a minute, the keeper had driven him back to his original place hiding in the ferns, only this time, the male had the intent to force Oliver out into the open, in front of the other humans. His fierce growls and snarls quickly transformed into terrified whimpers and whines. He really, really didn’t want to be standing in front of those humans, vulnerable and exposed. When they reached the point where the keeper was about to send Oliver out of the ferns and into the open space, Oliver ducked down and curled up as much as he could, tucking his head into his chest and refusing to move. The male would have to kick him out there._

_“Please, stop,” the other woman pleaded. “Stop it, you’re - look at how scared he is. Look at what he’s doing.”_

_“He’s deliberately trying to rile me up, is what he’s doing,” the keeper responded in a snap, annoyed. “Get up, 141. Bad boy. You walk out there and let our visitors have a good look at you, or you’ll get punished.”_

_“He’s terrified!” the same woman protested. “It’s fine, we don’t need to see him, he can stay -”_

_“I want to see him,” the haughty woman interrupted, her tone flat, but there was a cruel edge to it that made Oliver shudder._

_“Ms Rochev, the poor thing is obviously distressed -”_

_“With all due respect, Ms Michaels, your employer may be the investor of this particular project, but I am a potential customer with a lot of money, and I would like to see the sample of the merchandise.”_

_Flinching backwards when the keeper’s shadow loomed over him, Oliver went completely still when he heard somebody calling his name. Very slowly, he turned around to see Ivo standing in between the woman, Rochev and Michaels, calling his name. Blinking, he uncurled and sat up a little straighter, on the alert. He hadn’t heard somebody call him by his name in ages, and hearing Ivo say it aloud was - it sent an inexpressible emotion surging through his veins._

_He didn’t even realise that the keeper was about to strike him until the other woman, Michaels, shrieked, “Stop! Don’t hit him. He - recognises his name.”_

_“It’s okay, Oliver,” Ivo was saying, voice soft and reassuring and Oliver swallowed. Nothing seemed okay. He was going to get punished for disobeying and being bad, and that wasn’t okay. “Oliver, it’s okay. Come out here. Ms Rochev and Ms Michaels just want to say hello.”_

_He inhaled and exhaled shakily. He didn’t necessarily trust Ivo, but he sure as hell trusted him more than he trusted the keeper. He unsteadily got to his feet and then, keeping his head low and muscles tensed, slunk out of the ferns and into the open, instantly going still for a second when he heard the women’s sharp intakes of breath. Ignoring his keeper’s furious grumbling behind him, Oliver slowly made his way over to the food tray and cautiously began eating the apple that was sitting on it for him. Keeping his gaze angled towards the visitors, and glancing back every five seconds to check on the position of the male, he devoured the fruit and then moved to grab one of the giant leaves from the native island plants, wrapping the rest of the fruit and dried, cured meat slices up in it and hiding it in the nook of one of the smaller trees, to take up to his den later._

_“Good boy.” He flinched again and made a scared noise when the keeper’s hand came out of nowhere to caress his spine, as if the male was stroking a dog to reward him for good behaviour. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”_

_“He flinches when you touch him,” Michaels observed quietly. Oliver finally took his first proper look at the woman. She was dressed in black tactical gear, like most of the guards wore, but he suspected she was much more important than them. There was a glint in her eyes that told Oliver that she was not as okay with this as she was letting on, which sent hope flaring through his heart. “You punish him so often that he now fears contact with you. What punishments do you act out, exactly?”_

_“It used to be a few hits with a cattle prod,” Ivo informed her from the side. “But after he was impregnated, they were forced to abandon physical punishments that could affect his and his offspring’s health. Mostly it’s psychological punishments now, often they shut him in a black out box. He’s very compliant after twelve hours or so in total darkness and silence.”_

_“That’s barbaric,” Michaels whispered. “And he’s - did you just say he’s pregnant?”_

_The keeper rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t get so worked up over it, Ms Michaels. He’s an animal. Livestock - a stud. We treat him like we would any disobedient animal. He’s not far along enough to be overly affected by physical punishment, currently. The pregnancy is a recent development. As our perfect specimen, we can’t let those beautiful genes go to waste, can we?”_

_“How is it even possible…”_

_“If you look in your booklet on page 78, it explains our_ homo bellator custos _breeding program, and the genetic engineering that allowed us to make males able to carry offspring, and the asexual reproduction ability.”_

_“Do the possible health effects on the male not concern you?”_

_“All taken into account. Page 78 to 86. If your employer wants to know more about where her investment and sponsor money is going, our Head of Research and Development would be happy to have a sit down meeting. She is very excited about the prospects of the breeding program, and how the male specimens factor into it.”_

_This was all news to Oliver. Especially the pregnant thing. He managed to move away from the keeper whilst he was distracted talking to Michaels, trying to process everything he’d just heart, but his creeping away led him to be standing a few metres away, directly in the Rochev female’s sight line. And he was very uncomfortable with the way she was staring at him. Her expression was one of greed and satisfaction, and there was a glint of desire and immense delight in her eyes, which sent shivers down his spine. She was looking at him like something she wanted to own, and have at her feet. Like he was some sort of exotic pet that she wanted, all for herself._

_“How much is he?” Rochev questioned, not breaking her gaze away from Oliver._

_She interrupted Michaels and the keeper’s small argument, and the male crossed his arms, striding over to stand in front of Oliver and tell her, “He’s not for sale.”_

_“How much do you want?” Rochev repeated, not taking no for an answer. “100 million dollars?”_

_“Ms Rochev, he’s not for sale, as I told you before. If you would like to view some of our other specimens which are for sale, then -”_

_“110 million?”_

_“Ms Rochev -”_

_“120 million?”_

_“He’s NOT for sale,” the keeper growled. “He’s our prime specimen we use for merchandise viewings and besides that, he’s pregnant.”_

_“Fine. 150 million.”_

_“What about ‘he’s not for sale’, do you not understand?” the keeper snapped. “If you would like to put your name down to purchase a_ homo bellator custos, _which you will be able to buy after they have provided us with their obligatory two offspring and been fully trained -”_

_“I want him,” Rochev pointed at Oliver. “I’m willing to up to 160 million dollars if -”_

_“There is currently a bidding war over who will buy 141 once he is up for sale,” the keeper cut in, voice carefully controlled and calm, but straining as he struggled to contain his frustration at this woman. He tried to reach out to pet down Oliver’s back again, but he jumped out of the way, skitterish and nervous, quickly deciding that returning to the cover of the vegetation would be best. “And he’s not going to be up for sale for several years. You’ll have to get into the ring with the League of Assassins, the Triad, the Bertinellis and the Bratva, Ms Rochev.”_

_“200 million, that’s my last offer.”_

_The keeper arched an eyebrow. “Considering that the latest bid on the online market for him is 400 million dollars,” he said dryly, “I think you can keep your money.”_

_“Why are you so interested in buying him specifically, anyway?” Michaels questioned her, eyes narrowing suspiciously._

_“None of your business,” Rochev replied in a condescending voice. She stuck Oliver with that hungry look again, and he released a whine of unease, slipping further into the ferns and hunching down so he was finally out of view. “I’d like to speak to your Head of Research and Development. Maybe I will have better luck talking to her.”_

_“Look, Ms Rochev,” the keeper said, sounding tired of this by this point. “He’s really not for sale. But if you’re so desperate to buy him, fine. You can negotiate with the Boss. But you’re looking at a price of over a billion dollars, and a wait time of three, maybe four years.”_

_“A billion?” Rochev repeated, an expression of disdain on her face. “For him?”_

_Ivo spoke up, and there was a bite to his voice that made Oliver wince. “This is the most dangerous, lethal sentient weapon and shield in the world you’re trying to buy. You have no idea how much money Ms Michaels’ boss put into this project, and how much we’ve had to bribe the Chinese government to keep their mouths shut to the UN authorities. A billion dollars is a bargain for what we’re selling.”_

_“I’m done here,” Rochev replied, sniffing._

_The keeper nodded, and turned to Michaels. “Ms Michaels?”_

_“Sure, we can go,” she replied softly, and she was gazing in the direction of Oliver with a look on her face that made him swallow. “I’d like to see a female specimen before we finish our tour, though, if that’s alright.”_

_“Of course. We’ll leave 141 to finish his meal in peace.”_

_Michaels caught the male’s wrist as he was passing her, and Oliver inhaled sharply, tensing, afraid for a moment that he was going to hit her for touching him without permission. But he simply stopped and looked at her. “You’re not going to punish him for how he was acting earlier, are you?”_

_“He was disobedient.”_

_“He was scared,” Michaels said. “And he’s pregnant. Your current punishments for him might not be directly physical, but even psychological punishments can have their physical effects. The amount of stress they must put on his body -”_

_“We won’t punish him, Ms Michaels,” the keeper agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “If that’s what you wish.”_

_“Thank you.” She leaned past him to aim a small wave his way that made his heart soar. “Bye, Oliver.” He chirped back in reply, and the smile that spread across her face made him preen._

_“He’s an animal, Ms Michaels,” the keeper scoffed, leading them away. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”_

_They walked away, Ivo following behind, but the way that Rochev stalled for a moment, sending another longing, thirsty look towards the enclosure, that would haunt Oliver for months. There was something horrifically off about that female. Michaels, however, was entirely different. She had seen the human side of Oliver. She had called him by his name, unlike anybody ever had before. Maybe she would help him._

_Sighing, he collected his food from the nook of the tree and headed back towards his den. Hopefully, the keeper wouldn’t bring back any more visitors in the near future, and he would be able to go back to his days of peace. Back to his normal routine._

* * *

Oliver’s back is ramrod straight and he’s breathing so hard and fast that he’s almost hyperventilating by the time he returns from the flashback, drawn out of the past and into the present by his mate’s gently purring and urgent calling of his name. Trying to process everything he’s just remembered, whilst also having his horrified, terrified gaze fixed upon Isabel Rochev’s back, is just too much, _it’s too much_ , and he’s never felt this overwhelmed before, because not only was Rochev there at _that place_ and trying to buy him, but Lyla was also there and –

The smashing of glass startles him, and he makes an alarmed, scared noise as the windows fall apart and humans dressed in black tactical gear and armed with guns and what look to be conservation issued tranquiliser guns.

The room is in complete chaos.

Oliver is being dragged by Felicity, who is acting instinctively, snarling and growling as she tries to drag him to safety, but he catches glimpses of Thea and Moira crouching with Walter behind the couch and Diggle and Lance appearing with their handguns. He’s confused, there are so many people, so much noise and loudness and scents and smells and then the gunshots start and he’s panicking, running before he even fully knows and understands what’s going on. His instincts are screaming at him to get his mate to a safe place, to get himself to a safe place, but then he also wants to go and fight and defend his mate but there is also a part of his mind screaming at him to protect, _protect, protect_ , something _someone_ but he doesn’t know exactly who, because his instincts to protect Felicity are so different and this isn’t -

He barely hears Felicity screaming, “ _OLIVER!_ ” in shock and fear before he feels a prick at the back of his neck and everything, _everything_ , goes dark.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Please leave kudos and comment.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


	24. The Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack, discoveries are made that cause Oliver to slip into a feral state. A frank conversation with Lyla occurs, and a tense confrontation follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter out at the world*
> 
> Thanks for all of your amazing support guys, I really appreciate it!! I held a poll on my Tumblr and Twitter and you as readers informed me that you wished for this fic to be the WIP I focus on over the next few months.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> ( _Trigger Warnings: Self-impregnation once again, and discussion of child loss._ )

His ears are ringing.

It’s not an unpleasant sound at first, but it makes Oliver’s head ache, so much that he scrunches up his eyes and shifts his leg. Doing that, however, causes a stinging sensation in his knee, and the Bellator gives a humph of discomfort as the ringing grows louder and louder until it’s a whining, high pitch, making him clutch at his head. Slowly, he sits, the world spinning around him. It’s chaos. There are humans running back and forth frantically in his vision, and glass glints on the floor under sharp lights.

A hand grips onto his elbow, startling him, and Oliver bares his teeth in a growl, jumping to his feet and crouching defensively. For a split second, he’s struck with panic, still reeling from his flashback so that he thinks for a few heartbeats it’s the keeper. But his snarl falls short when Thea swims into vision in front of him, a gash on her hairline matted with blood and a frantic expression on her face. Immediately, those protective instincts within him rise and he’s grabbing her arms, drawing her into his embrace as the Bellator snuffles into her hair. A whine escapes his throat as he checks his little sister over. She’s talking, but because of the ringing, Oliver can’t understand anything she is saying. Not like how he’d be able to understand Felicity, with just a simple look.

_Felicity._

He surges away from Thea, despite his unsteadiness. Hands catch underneath his armpits to ensure he doesn’t topple over, and he whips his head around to see Lance and Diggle, both shaking their heads and speaking words he can’t comprehend. But that doesn’t matter. He has to find his mate. There’s a tightening weight in his chest, which is almost painful, a twinge at the back of his mind where he used to be able to feel his bond with Felicity. She’s not near him. He can sense she’s distant, far away from him, not by his side where she should be.

“Felicity,” he tries to say, but he ends up coughing, the dust particles in the air clogging his breath.

“What?” Thea shouts.

“Felicity!” he yells back at her. When she reaches out to take a hold of his arm, looking alarmed, he bares his teeth at her again and snarls, making her gasp and step back. Oliver almost topples over, a wave of dizziness hitting him again, and he crashes into Walter, who has appeared at his side to see what the shouting is about.

Thea doesn’t say anything back, but her expression is enough to tell Oliver that it is _not_ good. Oliver stumbles away from his sister and Walter, instead heading for Lance and Laurel, who are both standing on the other side of the room with Moira, having a tense conversation. Due to his light-headedness, the Bellator trips halfway there, but luckily Tommy darts out from somewhere to stop him from crashing into the broken shards of glass littering the ground, helping him the rest of the way.

The human who Felicity had identified as Malcolm Merlyn steps up, demanding, “What’s going on here?”

Oliver’s head whips around and he doesn’t know whom to look at as Roy Harper appears suddenly from behind Thea, snapping, “Hey, back off, buddy.”

“And who are _you_ meant to be?” Merlyn sneers.

“Dad, stop,” Tommy pleads. “Please just go into the pantry, this really isn’t the right time -”

“I want to know what’s going on, Thomas,” Merlyn interrupts his son, and Oliver whines into Tommy’s shoulder. “And if you really think -”

“You don’t have the right to demand to know what’s going on,” Roy seethes, getting up into his face. Thea tries to separate them, but Malcolm responds to the threat, looking furious. “You don’t even _know_ Oliver -”

“Both of you, be quiet!” Oliver expects it to be Thea shouting, but to his shock, it’s Moira. “Malcolm, Mr Harper. We will come by in a few minutes and explain, but for now, you can either help the police with evacuating the rest of the guests, or you can go and sulk in the pantry.”

Both Malcolm and Roy glare at each other, but they leave. Oliver is left practically hanging off of Tommy’s arm, and as soon as he sees Lance turning towards him, the Bellator surges forwards until he’s looming over the human.

“Where’s Felicity?” he demands.

Lance looks aghast. “Oliver -”

“ _WHERE IS SHE?_ ” he practically roars.

“They took her,” is all Laurel has to say, a scared expression plastered over her face because of the Bellator’s fury.

Oliver’s entire world comes crashing down around him.

He goes wild. There aren’t hands or arms strong enough to keep him controlled, and the Bellator completely loses it, thrashing and desperately running for the door, the only coherent thought that makes sense in his head being _must find mate, must find mate, must find mate_. He has to find Felicity. He can hear Lance and Thea desperately trying to calm him down, but as soon as Moira and Diggle attempt to get a hold of him, Oliver lashes out with a feral snarl, baring his teeth angrily. He flips a few tables as he storms out, throwing off their attempts to subdue him with an enraged yowl. How dare they get in his way? Who are they to stop him from searching for his mate, from rescuing Felicity? If they so much as try to get between the Bellator and his mate, there will be consequences. The only person who matters to him at the moment is Felicity.

He manages to get to the lobby before he meets another obstacle. Lowering his body and hefting another fierce growl when his route to the front doors is blocked, Oliver fixes a ferocious, furious look onto Caitlin. The doctor stands with her hands in the surrender, placating-wild-animal position, seemingly calm and collected as always, but he can smell a hint of anxiety within her pulsing chemosignals. She’s nervous, blocking Oliver’s way, and she should be. Right now, he only cares about getting back to his mate, and if Caitlin is stopping him from doing that, then he will not refrain from using force to get past her.

“ _Move_ ,” he grits out.

“Calm down,” Caitlin says, taking a cautious step forwards, and when Oliver hisses at her, she doesn’t retreat, only putting him more on guard. “You can’t rush out there on your own, Oliver. That’s exactly what they want. You have to stay calm.”

“Caitlin, so _help me god_ , if you do not move from in front of that door within the next ten seconds, I will _take you down_.”

“Think about it,” the doctor continues, undeterred by his threats. “We don’t know who took Felicity, alright? It could have been the conservation. But it could have been somebody else. You’re a public figure now; you could easily be the target of a large number of organisations, agencies and mobs. But they didn’t take _you_. They knocked you out with a sedative, and they took your mate instead. They know Felicity is your pressure point, Oliver. They took her because they _knew_ you’d react like this. They’re manipulating you. So you have to calm down, come back into the living room, give a statement and then let the police take over.”

“ _I don’t care_ ,” he says lowly. “She’s my mate, and I _will_ find her. Get out of my way, or get put down.” When Caitlin shakes her head, shooting him a warning look, a growl bubbles to his lips and he stalks forwards. “Caitlin, _MOVE ASIDE_.”

She gives him a long, calculating look, narrowing her warm eyes, but after a moment, the doctor nods and steps to the side. Triumph surges through Oliver’s arteries, and he releases a determined snarl, heading towards the doors, uncontested and free to do as he pleases. Before he can reach for the doorknob, however, there’s a sharp prick at the back of his neck. Memories of needles and tranquiliser darts flood his mind and he whips around, thrashing, but it’s too late. Caitlin has darted up behind him and he hasn’t even noticed, due to being so focused on planning out the search for his kidnapped mate, and she’s managed to stick a needle in his neck and sedate him. She backs up quickly, fear in her gaze as he lunges out at her angrily, but the sedative is fast acting and it only takes a few seconds for the exhaustion and weariness settles in, making Oliver’s vision fuzzy and his movements lethargic.

He collapses to one knee with a broken sound. He wants his mate. He wants nothing more than to find Felicity, get her home, wrap her in blankets in the nest he’s made on their shared bed, and hug, kiss and claim her repeatedly. “ _Fe-li-ci-tyyy_ ,” he whimpers.

“I know, Oliver,” Caitlin whispers, her voice sympathetic. When his other knee drops, and he careens to the side as he loses his balance, she rushes forwards to stop his head from hitting the floor too harshly. “Shh. It’s alright.”

Oliver makes one last attempt to stand once again, but his legs give out beneath him and he ends up falling, half onto Caitlin’s shoulder but Tommy darts out to catch his other side. As the Bellator is lowered onto the floor carefully, his friends and family cautiously approach. The Bellator bits his lip when he catches sight of the relief in their eyes, but also the leftover fear and apprehension from before. He’d scared them. With Diggle’s hand rubbing supportively on his shoulder, and Thea’s shaking fingers brushing through his hair, he succumbs to the darkness once again, but this time, in a much less violent fashion.

His last action is him calling out to his lost mate with a heartbroken, keening whine, before he slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

“You’re probably tired of being unconscious by now,” is the first thing Oliver hears when his eyelids flutter open.

Blinking blearily and heaving himself into a sitting position, the Bellator takes note of the fact that he’s been returned to his and Felicity’s bedroom. He inhales and has to hold in an emotional whimper when her scent fills his nostrils, reminding him of earlier that morning, when they’d woken up in each other’s arms. Caitlin hovers above him, an impassive expression on her face, which makes Oliver cringe. She passes over a glass of water and throws him a stern glance, silently ordering him to drink, before she walks away to grab her laptop from the desk.

“Sorry about the sedation,” she mutters. “Before you ask, the sedative I used was safe for you in your… condition, and the sedative that those who people who attacked us used on you was safe as well. I did some blood work to check.”

“You didn’t need to sedate me,” he huffs, vaulting his legs off the bed and noting that he’s been changed out of his tux into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. If he’s going to track down Felicity, then he’s going to need to change, but his Arrow suit is nowhere in sight, having been moved from where he’d left it piled on a chair yesterday. “Where’s my suit?”

“Moira took it,” Caitlin replies. “She’s planning on washing it for you.”

He stands and immediately searches for his bow and quiver, which are also missing. “My bow -”

“Lyla and Diggle took it.” Caitlin finally closes her laptop, sighing. “They think that taking your weapons might discourage you from going after Felicity.” The Bellator scoffs a laugh, which makes the doctor raise an eyebrow. “Yes, I had the same reaction. We both know that you’d do anything to get your mate back. But Oliver, you can’t run out there by yourself, with no back up.”

“Yes, I can,” he responds, annoyed. “I spent months working alone when I first arrived in Starling.”

“Yes, but you’re not _alone_ , now,” Caitlin says, drawing the word ‘alone’ out slowly, lowering her chin to level him with a pointed look. Oliver narrows his eyes at her. “And I don’t just mean you have Felicity, your family and your team now. Yes, of course you have us. But we have a new addition to the family, and by new, I mean extremely new.” She pauses, and what she adds next destroys her subtly all together: “Although, it’ll be roughly six months until they properly honour us with their presence.”

He swallows, so choked up that he knows that if he tries to speak, it will come out as a barely audible croak. Instead, the Bellator sinks down onto the edge of the bed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “The blood work…” he muttered, dazed.

“Your Human Chorionic Gonadotropin hormone levels were off the charts.”

“So that’s… a confirmation?”

Caitlin manages a small smile and moves so that she’s seated beside him, hand resting supportively on his knee. “Yes, that’s a confirmation.”

He nods silently, before asking quietly, “Have you told anybody?”

“No. I thought it would be best to tell you first.”

“Thank you.” The Bellator pauses, thinking deeply for a moment, before he informs her, “I don’t want to tell anybody yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’ll try and stop me from rescuing Felicity.”

Caitlin sighs frustratedly. “ _I’m_ trying to stop you from leaving to rescue Felicity. The police are already looking for her, so there’s no real need for you to go out there - and it’ll be too dangerous, Oliver. You can’t just be thinking about yourself when it comes to battle anymore. You have to protect your baby too.”

“Felicity’s my _mate_ , it’s my responsibility to make sure she gets back home alive and safe.”

Surging to her feet, the doctor stabbed her finger towards his stomach with a fierce expression, insisting, “It’s your responsibility to make sure that baby is born alive and safe as well, Oliver!”

And on instinct, he lashes out, jumping up in a flash and towering over Caitlin, baring his teeth as a noise, a mix between a sob and a growl, escapes his throat. “You think I don’t know that!?”

“I’m thinking you don’t know that you’re putting yourself at risk of losing this baby!”

“I’ve already lost one child, Caitlin, do you really think I’d deliberately endanger myself and _risk losing another_!?” he shouts.

Caitlin gasps softly and her jaw drops open in shock. Oliver raises his trembling hands to wipe away the tears that have gathered within his eyes, backing away from her in a rush and stumbling back onto the bed. Dragging his knees up into his chest and wrapping his arms over his head, Oliver tries to slow down his racing heartbeat, breathing fast and shallow. He’s never thought about it directly before. If he was pregnant before, at the facility, then where’s his child now? Did he miscarriage? Did the scientists there steal his baby away from him? Was the baby dead? He must have failed his first child somehow if they aren’t with him now. He can’t even remember what went wrong - the fear and terror he feels about this new baby, and the fact that he might lose this one as well, is suffocating.

The doctor approaches him slowly from the side, the sympathy and barely disguised horror in her eyes making him turn away, closing his eyes. “Oliver… I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she trails off, not knowing how to finish, before asking hesitantly, “Does Felicity know…?”

“No,” he whispers. “I haven’t told anybody. I didn’t even remember until just before the attack at the gala.” Shaking his head, he scrubs his hands over his face roughly, gritting his teeth as his nails bite into his skin. “Caitlin, please, don’t ask me about it. I barely remember anything about it yet, and just thinking about it -” he cuts himself off with a shudder.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver. Of course you don’t have to talk about it right now. If it’s any consolation...” She lays her hand on his shoulder, informing him gently, “I think you’re going to make a great father, no matter what happened in the past.”

“Caitlin, when - when we tell Felicity about the baby - _this_ baby… can we pretend that I don’t already know? It’s just… I always thought that when we’d find out, we’d find out together. She’s my mate and she should be included in everything, and I don’t want her to think that we left her out.”

“Oliver, that’s remarkably sweet of you. But wouldn’t it be more personal if _you_ told her, rather than have her hear it from your doctor?”

Oliver opens his mouth to respond, but there is a quick knock on the door and Caitlin turns away to tell them to come in. Lance pops his head around the doorway, asking if he can have a word. Caitlin shoots Oliver a questioning look and the Bellator gives a quick nod, scooting off the bed to stand, quickly shaking himself and wiping his face with his hand. Hopefully Lance won’t be able to tell he’d been upset.

“We think we have a lead on Felicity,” Lance informs them. “Lyla and Diggle reviewed all of the security footage and then Cisco scanned all the traffic cameras available throughout the city to the SCPD. Shockingly, it doesn’t look like it was the conservation that took her.”

“Who was it then?”

The detective quirks an eyebrow. “Some guys dressed in all black with swords. Ring a bell?”

There’s a twinge of familiarity there, but with it comes a hint of dread and fear. “Faintly. I need to get out there and track her.”

Lance frowns, glancing over at Caitlin. “You’ve cleared him for that?”

“No, I haven’t,” Caitlin glowers at the Bellator. He hisses at her, and she crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “Don’t hiss at me like that, mister, you’re not a cat. You still have traces of the sedatives in your system, and as your doctor I need to medically clear you before you are allowed out into action.”

“Then clear me,” he growls.

“Excuse me?” Caitlin raises her eyebrows.

“Caitlin, I am going to track down Felicity with or without your medical clearance,” Oliver tells her firmly, buffing his chest out. “So does it really matter whether or not you clear me?”

Lance bites his lip. “He’s got a point,” he admits.

The doctor narrows her eyes and stares at the Bellator closely for a second. “How exactly are you expecting to track Felicity down, Oliver?”

Oliver points to his head. The twinge in the back of his mind where he can usually feel Felicity’s emotions and presence is very faint, but it’s still there. “I can sense her. And her scent is permanently ingrained into my brain. She’s my mate, and if anybody can find her, it’ll be me.”

Tilting her head at him, Caitlin observes him intensely for a moment, before heaving a sigh. “Alright,” she gives in. “I will medically clear you. But only if you let Diggle or Lyla accompany you, and keep in contact with Quentin and the police.”

He mulls it over for a second, but realises - this would be the perfect opportunity to confront Lyla alone about what she was doing at the facility all those years ago, scouting out the Bellators for her boss. “I want Lyla with me in the field and Diggle working with Cisco on CCTV.”

Caitlin looks surprised, most likely because of her recent warning about Lyla’s trustworthiness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m not going in a car, either. I need to be on the rooftops out in the streets.”

“You really think Lyla is gonna be okay with that? For some reason, I can’t see her jumping from rooftop to rooftop and using grappling arrows to climb buildings.”

Oliver huffs. “It’s not like I’d leave her behind. I would help her. Maybe if I show a human my ways of traversing the city, you’ll finally be able to understand why I do what I do, and why I use my methods.”

The doctor and detective exchange glances and Caitlin appears unhappy, but Lance just shrugs his shoulders. “I can contact the police and alert them that Oliver will be out on the streets tonight,” Lance offers.

“Do that,” Caitlin nods. “Ask Lyla to meet Oliver on the porch with his bow and quiver, and ask her to grab his suit. He’s going to need them. Oh, and Quentin - don’t tell the Queens what’s happening until Oliver’s gone. I don’t think Moira would be very happy to know that her son is running out into the night to save his mate. You can keep Laurel and Tommy in the loop, but don’t tell Moira, Walter and Thea until they’ve had a clean getaway.” She aims a stern look Oliver’s way, warning the Bellator softly, “And you, Oliver… be careful, okay? I’ll murder you if you get yourself killed.”

“Noted.”

* * *

“Watch your step!” Oliver calls out loudly in warning, switching his bow into his non-dominant hand to reach out and grab Lyla’s wrist after she almost loses balances and topples off the edge of the building for the seventh time, after making a jump.

Lyla clutches onto his arm and drags herself back up, puffing frustratedly. The Bellator sighs and raises an eyebrow at her again when the agent insists, “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” he answers shortly, before taking off again at a brisk jog across the rooftop. “Keep up.”

“Why couldn’t we take the car?” Lyla asks, having to run to avoid lagging behind the Bellator.

“It’s easier to track Felicity this way,” he explains. “Streets are too restricting. This way we can head in whatever direction I sense her in. For all we know, the humans that kidnapped her could be constantly moving her around.” And they are. He can tell they are, because the yanking feeling within himself that guides him towards his mate is constantly relaxing and pulling; whenever Oliver gets a little bit closer, Felicity gets further away. It’s infuriating.

“And you’re tracking her using… a sense in your head?” Lyla questions, curious but also cautious. She watches with a somewhat miserable expression as Oliver makes the next leap across a gap to reach the next building.

He manages the jump effortlessly, but there’s a squirming ball of nausea in his stomach at the idea of being so high up. Those reports about Bellators becoming slightly acrophobic and avoiding heights when pregnant seem to be accurate. Oliver instinctively wants to wrap his arms around his middle to protect the fetus, despite the fact that it’s barely developed - he’s already bonding with the child inside of him, just like he bonded with Felicity within days of meeting her. “It’s the mate bond. I get hints of her emotions and location at the back of my mind, so I always know that she’s there for me - right now, I’m getting a tugging feeling in my chest, urging me to get to her. I’m tracking her using that.”

“You can sense her emotions?”

“Just the strong ones. At the moment, I think she must be unconscious. I’m not getting much in the sense of her feelings, but I can still pick up on her general location.”

He backs up, crouching forwards a little so he’s ready to leap forwards again and help Lyla out if she struggles to land the jump. This time, the agent makes the leap decently, and although her landing is rough, making her wince as her ankles twinge, Oliver doesn’t need to rescue her. “So that’s what we’re going off? No intel, no reliable information, just - this bond you have with Felicity?”

Oliver whips around to face her, and he can’t contain the growl that he’s been restraining ever since he saw Lyla, greeting her at the front of the Queen mansion so they could get out into the field together. “Well, does your agency have any information to offer us that could possibly help?”

Lyla shoots him a weird look, but the Bellator can sense her sudden anxiety about this line of questioning. “My agency?”

“You don’t work for the conservation,” Oliver says, his tone aggrieved and irritated, keeping a distance between them as they walk side by side. “You work for another government sanctioned organisation that’s interested in the Bellators.”

“... What makes you think that?”

He stops, slowly turning around to gaze directly at her with a hard, lethal stare. The woman shifts uncomfortably, averting her eyes, but there is no hiding her hesitant, tentative energy that makes her twitch and squirm under the Bellator’s gaze. It’s as if subconsciously, she knows that Oliver knows she’s done something wrong. And oh, what Oliver knows. It’s goes beyond wrong. It’s devastating for him to know that he’s trusted this human with his life, his family, his friends, his mate and unborn child, only to find out in a horrific flashback of all things that Lyla was there at the facility when he’d first been transformed.

His blue eyes gleam with an unfathomable rage, and Oliver’s voice is low and dangerous, a glint of steel to it, as he tells her, “Because you were there at the facility four years ago, checking up on the progress the scientists were making using money that your boss was investing in transforming humans into weapons.”

Lyla doesn’t say anything in response for several beats, just staring back at him with a flash of fear and reluctant acceptance that he _knew_ in her gaze. But then, that fear faded to guilt and shame, and she gave a heavy sigh, slumping. “You remember,” she replies, sounding resigned.

“Yes,” he responds shortly.

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember meeting you,” Oliver tells her, gaze still fierce and unforgiving. The biting wind sends chills down his spine, but that’s not the only cause of them; Lyla has set her face with a stony, blank expression of impassiveness. It’s exactly the expression that had been on her face when she had first arrived at the facility and seen Oliver. “I remember the keeper bringing you and Isabel Rochev to my enclosure, him forcing me out into the open in front of you.”

Lyla glances away, annoyed. “It was seeing Rochev at the gala that triggered it, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he responds. “Probably because I have very strong feelings of hatred towards her. But this… this was inevitable, Lyla. You have to know that. That’s why you were always so interested in learning what memories I had recalled. That curiosity - that wasn’t due to you wanting to report to Price that I was remembering, it was caused by self-preservation.”

“Maybe part of it was,” Lyla shrugs. “At the start, it probably was. But if you can only remember our first meeting, then you really don’t remember anything at all.”

“We had other encounters?”

“Many.” Lyla lifts her chin. “Not all of them as… pleasant, as our first one was.”

Oliver laughs darkly, hissing, “You call _that_ pleasant? I was _terrified_.”

“Compared to the other incidences, that one wasn’t bad,” Lyla shakes her head. “This isn’t the right time for this conversation. We need to find Felicity.”

“I agree,” Oliver nods. “But I’m not going to let you continuing accompanying me, continue hanging around my friends and family, when I know that you were there at the facility. For all I know, you could have tried to buy me just as Rochev did. For all I know, you could have hurt me, or killed any of my pack mates. I don’t trust you.”

“Oliver, I helped you escape.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lyla throws her hands up into the air. “Then I don’t know what to say to solidify your trust in me.”

The Bellator narrows his eyes, crouching defensively and resting on the balls of his feet as he questions suspiciously, “Okay, you say you helped _me_ escape. What about the other Bellators? What about my pack mates?”

“Oliver, you have to believe me when I say I have no idea what happened to Slade, Shado, Sara and Barry.”

Oliver goes still, before he repeats incredulously, “Barry?”

“Dammit, you haven’t remembered that far, yet,” Lyla mutters under her breath. “But if you haven’t remembered Barry yet, then you can’t remember having -” Her eyes go wide, and she pales visibly. “You can’t remember Theo. You can’t remember what happened to him, what happened after with… Oh god.”

“Who the hell is Theo?!” Oliver snarls, taking a threatening step towards her despite the agitation he’s experiencing which instinctively yells at him to run. _Humans = danger_ , and Lyla… Lyla is an unknown variable now. She’s a danger to him - to Oliver, to Felicity, to their child. “What are you _talking about?_ ”

She places her hands up placatingly, pleading, “Oliver, please. I swear to you that we will talk about this properly - but only once we have Felicity back. That’s got to be our focus of this evening. I know you don’t and can’t trust me right now, but I promise, I will not harm your mate, your friends or your family. I will explain _everything_ , but just let me help you now with no questions asked.”

Glaring at her, an anger bubbling in his chest, which causes his exhales to shudder uncontrollably, the Bellator growls, “Fine. I will give you _one_ chance to prove yourself to me. Only because I remember you stopping the keeper from hurting me and… and you called me by my name, and not my number. But you waste this chance, go behind my back, do _anything_ shady or suspicious, if I think you are a threat to Felicity, then we are _done_.” He leant in, baring his teeth. “And by done, I mean _permanently_ done.”

She swallows visibly. “I get the feeling that when you say permanently done, it would be due to the fact I would no longer be breathing.”

“Trust that instinct.”

Lyla remains silent for the rest of the journey, eyeing Oliver warily as they make their way through the city. The tugging feeling in the Bellator’s chest, and that feeling of physical closeness with Felicity at the back of his mind, is growing stronger, making Oliver antsy and even more desperate to hold his mate in his arms again. They finally reach an area of the Glades down by the docks where there are rows upon rows of warehouses for storing shipping containers and boats.

Motioning for Lyla to be quiet, he helps her to the top of a building that looks over the full street of warehouses. The Bellator can tell that the human has her eyes fixed on his back as he stands on the edge, looking over the warehouses closely with his hand on his chest, over where he can feel the twinge that connects him to Felicity throbbing. She’s awake now, and he can feel bits and pieces of her anxiety and fright, setting him on edge. He can almost hear her mentally calling out his name, trying to summon him to her side.

“There,” he nods, pointing over to one of the middle warehouses. “She’s in there.”

“You’re certain?”

He rubs the spot on his chest and he itches to run off and charge that building. He doesn’t care about anything anymore except getting Felicity back - he’ll abandon Lyla on this rooftop if he has to. Oliver doesn’t realise his hand has wandered down to rest on his stomach protectively until Lyla clears her throat, looking confused. “I’m sure,” he replies to her. “Felicity’s in there. She’s… she’s scared.”

“I’ll call for back-up.”

“There’s no time for that,” Oliver growls. “She’s… nervous. Anxious. Whoever has her, they must be up to something. We can’t wait any longer, she’s been there long enough already.”

“Oliver, you can’t go in there by yourself -”

“Lyla,” he turns to her, eyes wild. “I can’t leave her in there. She’s… she’s terrified. You don’t understand what this feels like - in her head she’s _screaming_ for me.”

“At least wait until Lance and the police arrive -”

“We may not have that long,” Oliver says worriedly, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, hand clenching around his bow whilst the other twitches upwards, wanting to grab an arrow from his quiver. “They could decide to move her.”

“Then we’ll track them.”

“And when they figure out we’re tracking them? They could hurt Felicity in retaliation.”

“Oliver, they took her for a reason. They won’t hurt her.”

“You don’t know that!” he snarls back at her, tensing. A few frigid seconds pass, and then Oliver turns away from her, preparing to shoot a zip line arrow towards one of the windows of the warehouse he’s certain his mate is being kept in.

“They took her to draw you in, to manipulate you – they’re not going to harm her when they want you.”

His heart seizes, and he shakes his head, agitated. “I don’t think they took her because they want me. They – they want her. For some reason. Felicity, she’s – she’s anxious, but not because she thinks I’m in trouble, if that makes any sense. I’ve felt her being worried about me, for me, before, and this isn’t what it feels like. It’s… she’s concerned for herself. If they wanted me, then she wouldn’t be worried about herself, and she wouldn’t be calling me if it were a trap. I’m going, Lyla. You’re either with me, or you’re not.”

Gazing at him intensely, Lyla nods, jaw set. “You’ll use your bow to go down the zip line?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to need your gloves. Don’t want to rip my hands all up before even getting into a fight, my aim needs to be perfect.”

Oliver hands them over to the human and she pulls them on. Breathing out, he aims the arrow towards the building, Lyla so close behind him that he can feel the body heat she is radiating. It’s somewhat comforting, and disconcerting at the same time. Planting his feet on the edge of the rooftop and staring down the arrow towards his target, the Bellator allows that feeling of protective possessiveness to flare up, sending fury and rage and uncontrollable desperation flaring through his arteries, adrenalin already pumping. He’s ready for a fight. And he will kill as many humans as he has to, to get his mate back.

“Ready?” he bites out.

“Ready.”

He fires, and as soon as the arrow hits and the zip line is secured and taut, the Bellator swings his bow over it with a snarl and jumps. The world blurs as he travels down in, feet already poised and ready to kick in the glass of window so he can make his entrance. He can faintly hear Lyla on the zip line behind him. The warehouse window approaches, and with a growl, he smashes the glass with his feet and leaps forwards.

Hitting the ground and ducking into a parkour roll, the Bellator has another arrow nocked and aimed just before he properly stands, a ferocious snarl on his lips and his eyes blazing. Felicity is not in his immediate sight line, but he can sense her here, with her mentally calling out for him. His mate might not be visible, but the humans that took her - they certainly are. Several of the figures in black draw their swords as they face him, getting into battle stances, but Oliver is not afraid. No, he is enraged. He will tear all of these humans down to reach Felicity.

They stole his mate away from him. They cannot be spared.

“Give us back Felicity Smoak, and nobody has to get hurt!” Lyla yells, springing up beside Oliver with two guns aimed.

“ _The only person getting hurt today will be you, foolish woman_ ,” one of the black-clad figures fires back in Arabic. Oliver doesn’t really know the language properly, but he’s fluent enough to understand what they’re saying.

The Bellator unleashes another savage growl, and ripples of unease spread amongst the black figures. “ _Do you know who I am?_ ” the Bellator snarls. “ _Do you know WHAT I am? What I can do? What I WILL do, to retrieve my mate?_ ”

“ _There are dozens of us,_ ” the same person replies, swinging their sword threateningly. “ _And two of you. You could not hope to take us all on and survive, even with a small army._ ”

“ _If you know who and what I am, then you’ll know that I don’t NEED a small army._ ” Oliver takes a step forwards, and to his triumph and satisfaction, the figures in black all take steps back, murmuring hesitantly to each other in Arabic, some swords lowering, whilst some rise up further. They’re scared of them, and that’s exactly what Oliver wants. “ _Give me back my mate, and maybe I’ll spare your lives._ ” He sweeps his cold, hard gaze over them all slowly, adding, “ _Not all of your lives. But some of them,_ ” before he allows a feral, toothy grin to spread across his face.

That makes the figures in black even more restless, and he hears one or two of them call him ‘ _demon_ ’ and ‘ _beast_ ’. Oliver narrows his eyes in suspicion, however, raising his chin a little to tilt his head, when he distinctly hears one of the humans name him as ‘ _canary’s wolf_ ’. It’s an odd nickname, and considering that Shado used to use the pet name ‘little wolf’ on him in Chinese, and ‘little bird’ for Sara, it sends a thrill of hope through him. These people - maybe they know of Shado, of Sara.

“ _The creature will slay us if we do not hand over the girl,_ ” one of the men murmurs, drawing up behind the black-clad human who had been addressing Oliver before. “ _She is his mate; in his feral state, he will kill us all to claim her back._ ”

“ _Then we fight him,_ ” the man says grimly. “ _Warith ordered us to bring the girl, and we shall bring the girl. As long as one of us survives to take the girl, we complete our mission._ ”

“You’re not taking her ANYWHERE!” Oliver shouts, voice deep and guttural with rage. The men don’t startle or jump, but they start to get jittery again, and beside him, Lyla whispers his name with a light warning tone. “Felicity is _mine_!”

“Then you will have to fight us for her,” the man informs him sharply, speaking for the first time in English. The humans in black who haven’t drawn their swords yet do so, standing firm in front of Oliver. “To the death.”

The Bellator seethes. He will break through that barrier of humans to retrieve his mate. He will destroy anybody who stands in his path to get to Felicity. “So be it.”

He looses an arrow suddenly, and it strikes one of the humans in the shoulder, as they obviously hadn’t been expecting him to make such a brash first move. Angry now, the man start to move towards him, wielding their weapons. Oliver shoves Lyla behind him, muttering to her lowly to get to cover, to find Felicity if she can, and get her out. The Bellator inhales deeply, instinctively resting his hand for a brief second over his stomach, praying that he gets out of this alive not only for Felicity, but for the unborn child he’s carrying, before he grabs another arrow from his quiver.

Oliver lets out a screaming roar of fury before leaping into battle.

* * *


	25. The Head To Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver fights for his mate. Allies are developed, revelations occur. And finally, the beginning of the real battle comes into sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from Iceland! I had an amazing time, and posted a lot of photos on Twitter, if you're interested. So now, I am throwing this chapter out into the world on a - Tuesday? Mainly because this Saturday I won't have wifi access to post this.
> 
> Thank you all once again for your support, I very much appreciate it. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> (Game for the comments this week: At the end of the chapter, how do you think Oliver is going to react to all of - well, _this_ , and how do you think he's going to react to the advice he receives?)

The first two figures in black crumple to the floor after managing to catch the first arrows that Oliver fires at them but failing to the catch the others. The archer can shoot off arrows so quickly that his hands are practically blurs, and the Bellator continues his enraged, screeching roar as he charges forwards.

He can hear Lyla shooting using her handguns behind him, but Oliver focuses more on taking down the black clad men, which turns out to be much harder than he expected. They are skilled with their swords and in hand to hand combat, managing to get a few hits in, but the feral Bellator is a wild force of nature that cannot be contained. He quickly disarms most of them of their swords by simply storming into them, tackling them to the ground with a ferocious snarl and knocking them unconscious.

Uttering a fierce, rumbling sound at the back of his throat, Oliver slams another one of the men to the floor, bow scattering from his hands around a metre away. That overwhelming thought of _he took my mate he threatened Felicity HE STOLE MY MATE FROM ME_ takes over and Oliver wraps his hands around the man’s throat, baring his teeth as the man chokes beneath him.

“ _Release him, or we shoot!_ ”

The Bellator’s head whips upwards and he growls loudly when he sees that the remaining six or so black clad figures have somehow acquired bows and crossbows and are now aiming their own arrows towards him. It’s not a smart move on their part; _humans = danger_ blares inside of his head and a dangerous emotion flares inside of his chest, making him release a thundering, threatening sound towards them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Lyla calls out. Oliver quickly glances over at her and his growl rises in volume. Three of the men have her surrounded and backed up against a wall, pointing their swords at her throat. “You will _not_ like him when he’s angry.”

“ _He is an animal_ ,” one of the men hisses. “ _He is a killer._ ”

“ _HE wants his mate back_ ,” Oliver snarls, releasing the man he’s pinning down and watching with gleaming blue eyes as he scrambles away, reeking of fear. He stands, and scoops up his bow in a single sleek motion, shaking with anger, towering over the other men. They stay firm, but the Bellator can smell their uncertainty and agitation. “ _And he is RIGHT HERE._ ”

“ _Stay back, beast! We WILL shoot you down!_ ”

“TRY!” Oliver bellows.

The Bellator lowers his body slightly, eyes narrowing with his teeth bared when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the black clad figures’ bowstrings tightening. He prepares himself to move, free hand hovering over his stomach protectively whilst twitching to grab an arrow, knowing that if he’s going to survive this, he’s going to have to be fast.

Before any arrows are loosed, however, a strong female voice shouts out, echoing around the warehouse, “ _HOLD!_ ”

To Oliver’s shock and suspicion, the men in black immediately lower their bows and place their arrows back into their quivers, falling to one knee and bowing their heads. Placing their hands over their hearts, they mutter, “ _As you wish, Warith_.”

Observing the men carefully, Oliver quickly glances back over at Lyla, who seems equally confused by this turn of events. He jerks his head in a rapid movement, urging her to come over, and Lyla slips over so she’s standing behind the Bellator, handguns still drawn but now aimed down at the floor. She shrugs her shoulders when the archer shoots her a questioning look; she’s just as clueless as he is.

A lithe shadow sweeping across the floor from a figure behind the Bellator causes him to erupt in a growl, fishing an arrow out within half a second and nocking it. Stepping in front of Lyla, he surveys this newcomer with scepticism and mistrust. Whoever this human is, they may have stopped the fighting for now, but they are still standing between Oliver and his mate. Seeing as how these men in black address this female, as _Warith_ , which the archer knows translates from Arabic to _heir_ in English, she must be important. Possibly, their leader. Most likely, the human who ordered Felicity’s kidnapping. 

The female finally slips around in front of him, and the Bellator lowers his head as he runs his gaze up and down her calculatingly. She is a rather imposing figure, with dark hair and a fierce gaze. Her stature is determined and dominant. She is clearly this group’s commander. “Peace, _Muharib_ ,” the woman says, making Oliver blink due to her surprisingly soft British accent. “We do not wish to incur your wrath any further.”

“Who are you?” Oliver questions warily.

“I am Nyssa, Warith Al Ghul, Heir to the Demon.”

Giving a stout nod, the Bellator slowly lowers his hood, exposing his face. Lyla makes a noise of protest, but he ignores it, and instead Oliver offers stiffly in response, “Oliver, Starling City vigilante and resident _homo bellator custos_.”

The female quirks an eyebrow, and when she bows shortly, there are more ripples of unease throughout her men, mutters of disdain and astonishment. “It is an honour to meet you, _Muharib_. May I ask what my men have done to provoke such violence from you?”

The archer releases an echoing, fearsome growl. “They stole my mate from me.”

Nyssa tilts her head, repeating, “Your mate. This would be Felicity Smoak?”

“Yes,” Lyla replies, before Oliver can bare his teeth and snipe out a scathing comment in response. “She was taken by force during an attack your men instigated upon Oliver and his family’s property earlier tonight, during a gala.”

“Then I must apologise,” Nyssa answers, casting scornful and stern looks over her men. “I was not informed that you had claimed the woman as your mate, _Muharib_ , and therefore did not realise that such an act could result in such disarray. I ordered my men to extract Felicity Smoak from your care as subtly and carefully as possible. We did not wish to create alarm and panic, and did not intend to keep you from her for more than a day or two.”

“I want her back,” Oliver grits out. “ _Now_.”

There are angry mutters from Nyssa’s men, some of them barking out in Arabic for the Bellator to show more respect, but when Oliver huffs furiously at them and Nyssa glares, raising a hand to quiet them, they back off, all standing and slinking off out of the back of the warehouse. After a few minutes, the Bellator, Lyla, and Nyssa are left alone in the dark warehouse.

“I will take you to her,” Nyssa tells the archer firmly. “But first, you need to call off your authorities. My men may follow my orders, but the League does not take kindly to the police. Innocent officers will be slaughtered if they come here.”

Oliver glances over at Lyla, silently asking whether or not that’s alright. They’re meant to have the police on call for backup, and telling them that they have to stand down from the situation and let Oliver handle it is not going to go down well. But as long as Lyla keeps her comm in her ear that keeps her in contact with Diggle, Cisco and Lance, they should be fine.

Lyla touches her fingers to her ear with the comm in and announces, “Police are turning around and standing down. One of our team and Oliver’s allies will be coming with a vehicle, though, to take us back to Queen manor; Quentin Lance. Is that alright?”

“I will order my men to leave him be,” Nyssa nods. “Thank you. Now, you may stay here.”

Frowning, Lyla counters, “No, I’m staying with Oliver.”

“The League will not associate with ARGUS agents, and does not negotiate with ARGUS spies,” Nyssa replies sharply. “You will stay here willingly whilst I take _Al Sahim_ to his mate, or I will have you removed from this area immediately.”

Lyla looks angry, but she seems to deflate, knowing that whatever she says or does, she will not win against Nyssa. The Bellator gives a small nod, informing her that he is comfortable enough going with this woman alone, that he will be fine by himself. “Be careful, Oliver,” she says to him lowly. “Tread cautiously. I’ll wait outside for Lance. Shout if you need me.”

He jerks his head in a nod, reassuring her that he will be fine. Once Lyla is turned away, Nyssa motions to the Bellator to follow her, inlining her head with a small smirk of a smile on her lips. Snorting, Oliver lowers his head and carefully places his arrow back into his quiver, switching his bow to his non-dominant hand. He tails Nyssa as she leads to a door on the other side of the warehouse, ever on the alert for any sort of ambush or attack that could be instigated from the side in surprise.

He follows the dark haired female through the door and into a darker and damper room, wrinkling his nose as the salty and metallic smell that hung in the air in the first room is replaced with a fresh breeze coming from a half broken window high on the wall.

It’s when Nyssa steps up-current and her scent washes over Oliver that he freezes, going still and making a small noise of astonishment. The female’s scent is sweet, sort of musky and exotic with a hint of aromatic spice, but there’s also a distinct hint to it that causes his mind to reel in confusion; it’s a tangy, fruity scent, one that strikes the memory centre of his mind, associated unmistakably with _Bellator Sara friend ally._

“Sara,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. Nyssa pauses, shooting him a curious look that is veiled with wariness, and when she raises an eyebrow in question, he says quietly, with a tone of urgency in his voice, “You… you smell like another Bellator that I used to know. Sara Lance. Do you... “ He swallows. “Do you know her?”

Nyssa fixes him with a thorough, penetrating gaze that honestly makes the archer want to squirm uncomfortably, but he holds firm and stares directly back at her, not willing to back down on this matter.

The longer that Nyssa spends time standing in the wind current that sweeps her scent towards Oliver, the surer he becomes that this woman and her organisation are connected to Sara. That Sara might still be alive. The kick of the female Bellator’s unique odour, reminding him of raspberries and apples, is fresh and reasonably strong, signifying that she has scent marked Nyssa recently - that she’s alive, and that Nyssa has had contact with her within the last week of so.

“ _Ta-er Al Safer_ ,” Nyssa finally responds, raising her chin.

“Pardon?”

Nyssa repeats the Arabic, before offering with a slight smile, “She forsook the same Sara Lance upon her induction into the League. Her name is _Ta-er Al Safer_ , now. The Canary. She chose the name herself.”

Oliver’s heartbeat is thudding in his ears, almost dizzying him. When he speaks again, his voice is frantic and croaky with emotion. “Sara - she’s alive?”

“And well,” Nyssa reassures him.

“And she’s - like me. Is she - is she okay?”

“The League protects its own, Oliver - and considering that she is also a _muharib_ , she gets the best care available. She is happy, and healthy, and well looked after.” Nyssa gave a soft laugh. “What’s rather humorous to me is that my _habibi_ warned me that if I ran into any other of her kind, to expect this sort of reaction. Your crusade and presence in this city has not exactly been subtle, _Sahim_.”

It takes him a moment to wrap his head around the fact that his old packmate is in fact alive, meaning that she also managed to escape the facility. So if both he and Sara got out of there, there was a high chance that Slade and Shado also did as well. The surge of hope within Oliver is somewhat squished, however, when he realises that just like he is a prisoner to the GMECC, Sara might be a prisoner to this League, and therefore Slade and Shado could be prisoners to other organisations, mobs or agencies of the sort. Hearing Nyssa say that Sara is happy and safe should dispel all his fears about Sara’s well being, but instead, he just finds himself feeling much more anxious about her.

“Is she here?” he questioned, stepping forwards. His grip on his bow tightens when Nyssa cocks her head, silently requesting that he elaborate, despite the fact that the Bellator knows she perfectly understood what he was asking. “Nyssa, is Sara here in the city?”

“No,” the female responds. “She is experiencing her Season currently, so was not allowed to leave the citadel. She wanted to come,” Nyssa adds. “Considering it was due to her, and _for_ her that this mission is taking place.”

Oliver shakes his head. He hardly understands anything that Nyssa just said. “Season?” he repeats helplessly.

“Ah, yes. I suppose you could essentially call it… her time of the month,” Nyssa chuckles. “She does always become rather hormonal. Overprotective. Territorial.”

“And this mission – _kidnapping_ my mate – for Sara? I don’t… Why would you take Felicity for her? What does Felicity have to do with any of this?” Narrowing his eyes, he bares his teeth as he questions further, “Why would you undergo a mission for Sara at all? You wouldn’t go to all that trouble for one member of…” he trails off, realisation hitting him. “You called her your _habibi_. Your beloved. You’re mates.”

“Ah, but you see, we’re not,” Nyssa corrects, and the sudden wistful, sad look on her face startles the Bellator. “We are together, yes, but we are not mates. It is due to the factor that we are _not_ mates that this mission was planned in the first place. My father thinks it most important that _Ta-er Al Safer_ is bound to a senior member of the League to ensure the safety of our other men – she can be quite volatile and dangerous at times, and we know a mate would calm her. As soon as Sara came into Season, my father ordered an excursion to research more into _Muharib_ -human bonding. By this point, he was aware of your fledgling mate bond with Miss Smoak.”

“So that’s why you took her,” Oliver crosses his arms. “To _test_ her? Experiment on her?” A ferocious growl erupts from his throat as he adds in a furious hiss, “I swear, Nyssa, if you have laid a _finger_ on her –“

“We merely wanted to examine aspects of her DNA and pheromone production,” Nyssa interrupts, her cautious gaze prompting the Bellator to snarl quietly in response. “My father thinks that her ability to bond with you might be caused something genetic and therefore can be simulated, or copied. All we needed were some samples. I swear to you, _Sahim_ , she is not hurt. We did not and have not harmed your mate in the process of this.” When Oliver’s growling doesn’t cease, Nyssa motions forwards to another secured steel door that leads to a separate chamber in the warehouse. “If you do not believe me, you can check her over yourself. I will not keep you from her any longer.”

At first, Oliver tenses with a low rumbling, not trusting this. The steel door reminds him too much of a cage, a prison to be lured into and trapped in. But the Bellator can feel Felicity’s presence at the back of his mind, a sharp tugging as she calls to him, and instinctively he knows that his mate is behind that door. Shooting one last look towards Nyssa, Oliver opens the steel door and steps inside, gazing around searchingly, his head screaming _find mate find Felicity get to mate._

The lights are dim, making the Bellator’s eyes ache, but his gaze quickly falls upon a small cot which has been shoved over in the corner of the tiny room, and as his eyes adjust and focus, he gasps out in a desperate voice, “ _Felicity_ ,” rushing over to her.

She’s curled up on the cot underneath a thin blanket and as his hands flit over her, whines and worried whimpers escaping his throat, Oliver is swamped with relief as he sees that she is unhurt. Her blue eyes blink up at him blearily and her voice is slightly slurred as she says his name, reaching out weakly with one hand. Rumbling soothingly, Oliver flicks one of the locks of blonde hair out of her face and presses kisses over her forehead and cheeks, his grunting and purrs reassuring her _I’m here, I’m here now, you’re safe, I found you._ The twinge at the back of his mind blossoms, and he can feel her fully and completely again, feel her emotions and her tiredness. It’s reassuring and concerning all at the same time.

“What…” Felicity’s eyelids flutter, and she has difficulty focusing on his face, and pronouncing her words, which sends his heart clenching in concern. “Ol’ver? No, can’t… can’t be here, s’too dang’rous. What’re ya’doin’ here? Bad men might hurt you…”

“I’m here to take you home,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on her shoulder. “We’re going home, sweetheart.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Felicity’s eyes slip closed and she gives a quiet grunt, clutching at the sleeve of his Arrow jacket.

“What did you do to her?” Oliver hisses, sliding onto the cot so he can gently ease his mate up onto his chest so she’s leaning against him. Felicity sighs and nuzzles into his collarbone almost sleepily, muttering his name on repeat, not just out loud but through their bond as well. Her pheromones wash over the Bellator like a swath of tidal waves, and her confusion, fear and lastly, comfort due to his presence, are evident.

“Merely gave her a minuscule dose of sedative,” Nyssa replies, striding in through the doorway after him, and looking down at the Bellator and his mate with another pensive expression. “She became somewhat agitated when she awoke without you earlier. We did not want her accidentally harming herself in an attempt to escape.”

Felicity mewls against his neck, whispering shakily, “They took… took blood… haveta… shouldn’ be here, Ol’ver… Shouldn’ta come f’me.”

Humming, Oliver runs one of his hands up and down her back consolingly, murmuring in reply, “It’s okay, Felicity. I’m always going to come for you. You’re safe now, my love, shh.” Glancing over at the dark haired female, he asks suspiciously, “So what tests did you do on her?”

“We took blood,” Nyssa replies calmly. “Saliva. Some skin and sweat samples. And before you ask, as soon as we analyse the samples and I have presented my father with the results, we shall destroy the samples and wipe the results. Whilst in our system for that brief amount of time, they will be labelled anonymously.”

“Can you inform me with certainty that everything will be done securely?”

“None of it will fall into your conservation’s hands. I will oversee the entire process if that reassures you in anyway.” 

“It does.” The Bellator quirks an eyebrow as he asks, “I presume we are free to leave?”

Nyssa nods. “You are free to go, both of you. I apologise once again for any chaos we have caused.”

“Just… don’t do it again,” Oliver grumbles, standing and passing his bow off to Nyssa to carry for him before he sweeps Felicity up into his arms bridal style, purring gently into her ear to calm his mate down. He pushes soothing emotions through their mate bond, which relaxes her instantly. She tucks her head under his chin with her own weak purr, rubbing her nose over his scent glands there, and Oliver doesn’t have to be a genius to realise that she is instinctively trying to scent mark him and herself, issuing a claim. He responds to her nudging with his own soft, possessive sound. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck, sweetheart, I don’t want you slipping and falling,” he murmurs.

“You won’ lemme fall,” Felicity mumbles back, but she does as he asks, although her grip is lax and not very strong due to the sedative in her system. “We goin’ home now?”

“Yep.”

“Mmm. M’tired.”

“I know,” he smiles. “Let’s get home and get you to bed, okay?”

“Away from bad woman,” Felicity sighs. “Away from her bad men.”

A grin stretches across his face. “Yes, away from the bad woman and her bad men,” he repeats, shooting a smug look towards Nyssa, who rolls her eyes. “Where’s the exit around here, Nyssa?”

“To the left back in the main warehouse chamber,” the female relays. She hesitates before picking up the blanket from the cot and tucking it around Felicity’s body in Oliver’s arms. “None of my men will contest your departure.” Leaning in, she says to the Bellator’s mate: “Goodnight, Felicity Smoak, MIT Class of ’09.”

“G’bye Nyss, Heir to t’Demon,” Felicity slurs, before he drops off to sleep within a few seconds and begins to snore gently against Oliver’s neck.

“Isn’t she charming,” Nyssa says, but there is not a hint of sarcasm in her voice, the trace of a smile dancing on her lips. “I can certainly understand why you and so many others are so enamoured with her. _Sahim_ , if I may offer you two pieces of advice before you depart.”

He bows his head. “Go ahead.”

“Firstly –“ Nyssa reaches around to tap the skin at the back of his neck, causing the Bellator’s hackles to raise defensively and step away from her with a growl. “Have that tracking device removed as soon as you possibly can. It’s frequency and program was far too easy to hack into. If the League with our antiquated technology was able to hack into it and track down your location, as we did to locate and extract Miss Smoak, other agencies, organisations and mafias will be able to as well.”

“Let me guess,” he swallows. “They might not be as… _kind_ , as your group are.”

“They will try and kidnap you,” Nyssa says solemnly. “They will use lethal force if they have to, in order to get you in your possession. I don’t think you comprehend just how precious your body, your cells, DNA… specifically your instincts and abilities, truly are. And how dangerous it would be if you fell into the wrong hands. Of which, there are many. You are valuable, and they will kill, certainly attempt to manipulate you, your friends and family, to get hold of you. Which brings me onto my second piece of advice.”

As soon as Oliver catches a glimpse of the dark haired female’s eyes flitting to the Bellator’s mate for a brief second, his arms tighten around her, and he growls, “Felicity.”

“Yes.” Nyssa shakes her head. “They will not care that she is your mate, Oliver. Whatever feelings and bond you have concerning her, that won’t matter to them. If Miss Smoak gets in their way, if she tries to protect you and stakes such a possessive claim on you that she actively confronts any potential threats to you, she will die.”

“Felicity is stronger than you think,” the archer counters hotly.

Nyssa sighs, and then flicks her hand in a motion for him to follow her. Clutching his mate tightly to his chest, Oliver brushes his mouth against Felicity’s forehead in a kiss as he trails behind her, coming out into the main warehouse. Lyla is gone, checking on Lance’s arrival with their getaway vehicle, and as there is no scent of fear or blood in the air, Oliver remains calm.

“It is not Miss Smoak’s strength that I am doubting. I am concerned about the state of vulnerability she may enter if she focuses all her energy and instincts into protecting _you_ , rather than protecting herself.”

“What precisely do you mean by that?” the Bellator growls.

The female warrior opens the door, and the night’s cold breeze washes over the Bellator. Felicity shivers in his arms, fingers curling tighter around his Arrow jacket with a soft snuffle against his neck, so he purrs quietly back and tugs the blanket over her further so that her face is shielded from the wind. It seems for a moment as if she’s about to wake up, so Oliver sends waves of comfort through their bond, making sure she knows that they are both safe and it’s okay for her to sleep. Felicity sighs, nuzzling into his collarbone as she slips back into the arms of sleep.

“Oliver, you are a warrior,” Nyssa continues, closing the door behind them, and then standing by his side as they look over the docks and the dark water in the harbour together. “It is why I call you _muharib_. You can fight, as you so evidently proved only ten minutes ago by taking out half of my men in your feral state. I do not intend to insult, but Miss Smoak is not particularly physically adept. She would struggle in a battle.”

“Nyssa, I can protect Felicity.”

“I have no doubt about that,” the female responds. “But you must be prepared. Due to her association and bond with you… Miss Smoak is now a target. A major one. She is truly devoted to you and I cannot imagine her leaving you, even if you insist on it, for her own safety. She will try and protect you, but she will fail, and only end up putting herself in danger. You must keep her safe, Oliver Queen.”

He can see what Nyssa is saying, understands her warning. As his mate, Felicity is his greatest strength - but also his greatest weakness. She is vulnerable, so therefore makes him vulnerable as well. He fell to pieces when she was taken, went feral and wild and lost his focus. The only reason he was able to fight Nyssa’s men was because of that feral state he slipped into - he wasn’t thinking logically. If it had been a trap or an ambush, Oliver wouldn’t have noticed, and he would have lost.

“I will protect her to best of my ability,” he says quietly.

Exhaling, Nyssa nods, and then she bows shortly again, which makes Oliver shift uncomfortably with Felicity twitching in his arms, still asleep, thankfully. “Then this is where I shall leave you. The League shall be departing from the city tonight, so we will not encroach on your territory any longer. I wish you and your mate the very best, Oliver.” Her eyes lower to his stomach, and she adds, “And I offer you my sincere congratulations.”

The Bellator swallows, and he can’t help but step back warily, a nervous rumble tickling the back of his throat. “How’d you…”

“Oliver, you are discreet as you think you are,” she smiles sympathetically. “Your hand has moved to hover over your lower abdomen too many times to count, and I have seen and known enough pregnant women to know that gesture is one of protectiveness over an unborn child. Does Miss Smoak know?”

“We… suspected. I only had it confirmed after she was - after you took her.”

“I am sure she will be delighted,” Nyssa tilts her head. “Would you mind if I informed my _habibi_ of this development? She will undoubtedly be ecstatic to know her packmate is with child.”

For a split second, Oliver wonders whether or not Sara spoke to Nyssa about their past at the facility, what happened there - whether or not it’s possible that Nyssa might know more about what happened to Oliver than he actually does. Does Sara have massive gaps in her memory just as he does? Or does she remember everything? His eyes widen; what if Sara knows about Theo? About Barry?

“Nyssa, has Sara ever talked to you about what happened to us there at the facility?” he rushes out, not bothering to conceal the desperation in his voice. “Has she told you about a Barry? A Theo?”

She frowns concernedly. “You have memory loss? Is it intermittent?” When the Bellator doesn’t respond beyond a pleading expression, Nyssa shakes her head, offering, “I apologise, Oliver. Sara rarely speaks of her experiences at the facility, but from what she has told me about Barry and Theo… those are memories it would be much safer, mentally and emotionally, for you to recall yourself, in time. It will make it easier for you to process.” Her head snaps to the side. “Your friend is here with his car.”

And indeed Lance is, the head lights of his police car dancing over the gravel and asphalt, as he heads slowly and carefully down the docks towards where the Bellator and his mate are framed in the sharp beams of light. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver sees Lyla step out from behind a bush to raise her hand in a wave to Lance, to signal him to come over. Nyssa cautiously keeps back, out of the view, and it seems as if she is about to disappear, making him panic for a second.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Oliver takes a hurried step towards Nyssa so that she can clearly see the expression on his face, letting his conflicting emotions show. “Nyssa, can you please give a message to Sara for me?”

She looks surprised. The dark haired female casts a worried look towards the police cruiser, but finally turns back to him, agreeing, “Of course.”

“You can tell her about me,” he says. “You can tell her about me, and Felicity, our mate bond - about the baby. But can you please tell her that she’s always welcome here? It… it would be amazing to see her again. I know she’s safe and happy, that you’re caring for her but… I haven’t seen her in _years_ , and I just… I miss her. She was my packmate, and now I just…” Nyssa is just nodding, beginning to walk away as Lance’s cruiser starts to pull up. “Nyssa, wait, please. Can you tell her that - that I’m going to tell her father and her sister that she’s alive?”

Nyssa freezes at that, making a low sound. “Oliver…”

“They need to know, Nyssa,” he whispers. “They need to know that Sara is alive - they’re her family, they care about her just as much as we do. Probably more. They think she’s dead and - I’ve been keeping it from them, lying to them, saying I can’t remember whether or not she survived the Gambit. I didn’t want to tell them that I knew she made it to the facility but couldn’t remember whether she lived or died there. But keeping this secret - knowing that she’s alive now, that she’s a Bellator and that she’s healthy and content with her life… it’ll destroy me, Nyssa. I can’t lie to them anymore, not when they’re my team, my _friends_. I have to tell them.”

Sighing, Nyssa gazes at him closely, as if observing him for any insincerity, but then she just huffs out a quiet, irritated noise. “You are a good man, Oliver,” she admits. “And I do not think I have it in my heart to order you to keep silent when you so honestly tell me it will cause you emotional pain to do so. You can tell my _habibi’s_ family that she is alive, and safe - as long as you do not mention hide nor hair of the League and I.”

He breathes out, relaxing, and he huddles Felicity closer to his chest as he murmurs, “Thank you, Nyssa. Will I see you again?”

“Soon,” she promises, placing his bow on the ground next to him as she prepares to make her exit. “Hopefully, next time with Sara at my side. You can consider the League of Assassins an ally. We do not often involve ourselves in business outside of our main interests, but I have the feeling that you, _Sahim_ shall always remain an interest of my father's. If you need help, then you may merely send us a message - a purple smoke cloud is the signal the League usually uses. Produce one, and we will come to your aid. Good luck, Oliver Queen. With your mate, and with your child. I hope you escape the confines of the conservation. You deserve to be happy.”

And then she vanishes, disappearing into the darkness. A small smile works its way onto the Bellator’s face, and he quickly glances down at his slumbering mate in his arms, checking on her. Felicity is sleeping peacefully, with adorable tiny snores, her fingers still tangled in his Arrow jacket. He snuffles comfortingly into her throat and she squirms slightly, purring back in her sleep. How she manages to convey such compassion and fondness into the noise and through their bond when she is unconscious will always baffle and amuse him.

The police cruiser pauses just in front of them, and Oliver flinches, screwing his eyes shut, when the headlights hit them directly. He can barely see Lance and Lyla due to the light blinding him, so he moves out of the light towards them, letting out a low, reassuring rumble.

“Oh, thank god,” Lance greets him with. “You’re alright? Is Felicity?”

“She’s fine,” he conveys, and although at first the detective coming forwards to brush his hand over Felicity’s head in a protective, fatherly motion makes him want to snarl protectively, possessively, instead he just grumbles. “She’s asleep. She’s not hurt.”

“And you?” Lyla questions, calculating eyes sweeping over the Bellator. She looks as if she wants to ask a million questions about what just happened with Nyssa, but she holds herself back. She and Oliver are still on rocky ground, and he still doesn’t completely trust her, which they will have to address at a later time, once Felicity is wrapped up in their bed at home.

“I’m fine,” he promises. “Tired. A little bit anxious to get back to the mansion with Felicity.”

“And lock her in your room, wrap her up in blankets and refuse to let her leave, no doubt,” Lance comments, and Oliver can’t argue with that, because it’s rather too accurate for his liking. That is his plan. Along with tackling Felicity down and not letting her leave the bed until the Bellator has claimed her repeatedly. "You want to explain what happened here? Who took Felicity? Why they took her - how you got her back from them?"

"Not really," the archer admits. "It's complicated." And will only get more complex when he has to explain to this man, and Laurel, about how his youngest daughter is in fact alive and a Bellator, living with the organisation that kidnapped his mate.

"It always it when it comes to you," the detective sighs. “Come on, we need to get you two home as fast as possible.”

The stricken and worried tone of the detective’s voice sets the Bellator on edge, and he tightens his grip around Felicity protectively, asking bluntly, “Why? What’s going on?”

Lyla exchanges a look with Lance, before turning back to Oliver and speaking with a resigned, yet annoyed voice: “Price turned up. Moira and Walter did _not_ react well. Laurel and Roy are having to practically restrain Tommy and Thea to stop them from attacking her.”

“She’s not happy, Oliver,” Lance says lowly, opening the back door of the cruiser so that the Bellator can gently place Felicity down there, slipping in beside her. “At all. She wants to file charges against Felicity, against your family, for harassment, theft… it’s a two page long list.”

“She can’t do that,” he growls. “She _can’t do that._ ”

“Oh, she’s trying,” Lyla scoffs, passing him his bow, before she clambers into the passenger seat. Lance jumps into the driver’s seat, and seconds later, they’re moving off, away from the docks and the League, but all Oliver can think about is that he finally has Felicity back in his arms and they are being threatened. _Again._ “What’s hilarious, is that Laurel? Managed to get our lawsuit against the conservation to apply for your freedom approved. Literally fifteen minutes before Price arrived, she got the call. We have all the evidence we need to burn the conservation to the ground for what they’ve done to you, Oliver.”

“But Price isn’t going to back down easily.”

The Bellator allows a dark, feral grin to spread over his face. This is the perfect opportunity. The opportunity he’s been waiting for. Price is on their turf, on his territory, threatening his friends and family and threatening him - oh, this is _perfect._ Price will be utterly at his mercy, and he’s already got his bow at his feet and quiver on his back. Once the police cruiser stops outside the mansion, all he has to do is get out, sprint twenty metres or so, get through a door - and then he can put an arrow through her throat. He can make her pay for everything that she has done to him, to Felicity - she is going to pay for trying to take over, control and ruin his life. She’s going to pay for violating him and trying to separate him from his mate. Price is going to end up in a _grave._

And as soon as Price is dealt with, when he, Felicity and the baby are safe from her clutches – he is going to claim Felicity as intimately as possible and solidify her position as his mate for good.

“Oh, Price is going down,” the Bellator chuckles, the sound so grim and morose that both Lance and Lyla seem to startle at it, glancing warily back at him.

“And once I’m done with her, she isn’t going to be getting back up.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Please leave kudos and comment.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar
> 
> (Game for the comments this week: At the end of the chapter, how do you think Oliver is going to react to all of - well, _that_ , and how do you think he's going to react to the advice he receives from Nyssa?)


	26. The Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving back at Queen mansion, Oliver comes face to face with Price. Negotiations determine the Bellator's fate. Oliver's desire to claim Felicity grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the chapter that I promised like two weeks ago HAHA please don't kill me.
> 
> Thanks for all of your support once again! I very much appreciate it :)
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** : Implied and discussed (sort of?) male impregnation.
> 
> Game for the comments this week: Baby gender, and names!! What gender do you think the baby should be, and do you have any names in mind?

* * *

Vanilla, honey and lavender. That is the scent that keeps Oliver grounded, that prevents him from slipping into a feral, out of control state fuelled by rage; it’s most likely due to the fact that it’s his mate’s scent that causes it to have such a calming effect on him.

Felicity is still sleeping, half on the seat beside him but also half on the Bellator’s lap, legs curled up beneath her. Gazing down at her with fondness, Oliver chuffs gently, pulling off one of his leather gloves so he can run his bare hand through her blonde hair, flicking it out of her face. Sensing his affection through their bond, Felicity sighs and nuzzles back into his collarbone, hand tightening around his jacket.

He’d thought he’d lost her. Remembering that feeling of loss and hopelessness and desperation, the fury and fire that burnt in his chest when he discovered Felicity had been kidnapped, causes a flare of pain in the archer’s chest. Oliver can’t help but instinctively wrap his arms around his mate’s waist, burying his face into her hair. It had been such a relief to get Felicity back, to work out a truce and an alliance with Nyssa and the League, and knowing that they are heading back into a war zone with a much bigger present threat…

Oliver snarls quietly to himself under his breath. Price will be dealt with. He’s planning on firing three arrows directly into her heart as soon as he steps inside the mansion, just to be rid of her, but he knows that most likely will not happen; Lance and Lyla will stop him before they allow that.

Lyla and Lance have mostly sat in silence during the drive back to the mansion, occasionally glancing back at the two of them to check on them. Their chemosignals stink of an underlying anxiety, but Lance mostly smells of relief that Felicity and he are safe, whilst Lyla radiates mostly caution and wariness, due to the fact that she knows that Oliver still doesn’t completely trust her.

They turn into the entrance to the Queen mansion gates, and the Bellator narrows his eyes when they have to go through three police checks to get inside, as well as the normal security check. They certainly aren’t taking any chances anymore, not after the gala was attacked. Most of the guests seemed to have left, the driveway empty whilst before it had been filled with cars and limos.

Diggle is already waiting on the porch steps, and he rushes down to meet them the moment that the car pulls to a stop. “Are you alright?” he demands, yanking the back door open before Oliver can even reach for the handle. The Bellator blinks up at him in surprise. The human’s eyes flit down to the archer’s mate, and he sounds much more relaxed as he questions, “You found her; is she okay?”

“She’s asleep,” Lyla responds.

“The humans that took her gave her a light sedative to make sure she didn’t accidentally hurt herself,” Oliver nods, handing Diggle his bow to hold whilst he manoeuvres himself out of the car with Felicity still snuggled in his arms. “They didn’t harm her. She’s completely fine.”

“Who took her?” Diggle asks, the fury in his voice evident. Although Oliver knows that his anger is directed more towards the fact that Felicity was taken in the first place, not at him, he can’t help but flinch minutely.

“I can’t say,” Oliver replies apologetically. “But… they’re an ally. They explained everything to me and… it was for a good reason, they took her.”

“You spoke to the people that kidnapped your mate?” Lance’s eyebrows are raising up into his hairline, the disbelief in his voice making the Bellator huff. “And you let them _walk away_? Without arrowing them?”

Oliver shoots him a glare. “I can be reasonable,” he says defensively.

“Sure,” Lyla draws out. “ _That’s_ why you killed over half a dozen guys as soon as we stormed that warehouse.”

“Half a dozen guys?!” Diggle repeats.

“That’s an exaggeration!” Oliver argues. “I’m sure it wasn’t… _that_ many. I had an excuse, they were rude to me. I thought they’d hurt Felicity. You don’t get in between my mate and I, expect to be able to confront me, and _live_.” He pauses. “Okay, there can be exceptions to that, but not many!” Before Lyla can say anything else, he changes the subject, tone dropping into low and dangerous. “Is Price in there?”

Diggle’s expression hardens. “Yes.”

“How come you’re out here, and not in there?” Lance asks. “I thought you were acting as the mediator.”

“Well.” Diggle shifts uncomfortably, not meeting any of their gazes. “Walter asked me to leave after I attempted to clock Price in the face.”

Oliver makes a pleased chitter, but Lyla is not as happy. “You tried to punch her?” she hisses. “John, she’s your _employer_.”

“Technically, I was fired over a week ago.”

“She could press charges for assault!”

“Attempted assault,” Diggle corrects, but then he swallows when Lyla looks even more exasperated. Oliver holds back a chuckle; watching the two of them bicker like mates, despite the fact that they are separated, is quite funny. “Okay, I admit, it was wrong. But you’d have wanted to do the same thing if you’d heard what she was saying.”

“What was she saying?” Lance questions.

Diggle shakes his head solemnly. “You don’t want to know. Luckily, we caught it on audio. We can present it as evidence in court.” Glancing around at them, the human adds, “And I don’t know whether or not you’ve been informed of this development, but Kate Spencer is in there.”

“The DA?” the detective sounds surprised. “How’d she get caught up in this?”

“Actually wanted to jump into it, if you can believe it. Price has got an entire team of lawyers behind her, and since Starling is technically housing Oliver and the public are the ones that benefit from his duties, Spencer thinks the city should get a say in how the conservation treat this matter.”

“Is that even legally allowed?”

“There’s never been a court case like this one,” Diggle sighs. “There aren’t really proper rules to abide by, not when nothing like this has ever happened before. Judge has apparently signed her off as an overseer - a negotiator, between us and the conservation. But considering that Spencer is on our side and is all for getting Oliver away from Price and the conservation as quickly as possible - I say we let her help.”

“As long as one of you keeps an eye on her, I’ll allow her to stick around,” Oliver says firmly, before taking a step closer to Diggle and asking softly, “Can you please take Felicity upstairs to my room, and ask Caitlin to check her over? I want to make sure she’s completely healthy and unhurt, and there’s no side effects from the sedatives.”

Diggle’s expression softens at the sight of the slumbering blonde, and he murmurs, “Of course,” before handing the Bellator’s bow off to Lance so that Felicity can be transferred into his arms. She stirs weakly, making a faint mewling noise of confusion, but Oliver leans forwards and peppers tender kisses over her jaw and forehead, chittering soothingly. “I’ll take her in the back way to avoid Price and the police, and I’ll text Caitlin to come up.”

“Thank you,” he nods, managing a grateful smile.

It physically and emotionally pains Oliver to have to leave Felicity, but he can’t go and fight this war against Price if he knows that Felicity is unconscious and therefore vulnerable. Like Nyssa said - she is strong, but she is simultaneously his greatest weakness. He won’t be able to focus on battle if his mate is in the room with him; he’ll be too worried about protecting her. He presses one last loving kiss to Felicity’s forehead before he forces himself to step back and watch Diggle walk away to the back of the mansion. Every step the human takes, leading him further away from the archer and therefore creating more distance between the Bellator and his mate, causes Oliver’s anxiety to kick up to the next level.

Once they’ve vanished from sight completely, the Bellator has to reassure himself by prodding silently and gently at their mate bond, and contented by the fact that Felicity pushes back with feelings of love and warmth, he’s able to exhale heavily and focus himself. Turning to the detective, he demands, “My bow, please.”

Lance narrows his eyes at the Bellator and then says warily, “I don’t think so, kid.” Oliver snarls, eyes brightening with fury, but the detective continues in a rush, “If you go in there ready for a fight and immediately attack Price, the police will take you down and you’ll end up in a cell. A cage, Oliver. You’ll be declared dangerous, and you’ll be unreachable to us; and very accessible to the conservation. If you kill Price, you’re as good as handing yourself back over to the conservation for the rest of your life. Do you want that?”

“I’m not going to kill her,” Oliver lies, in a tone just as thunderous as the storm that is rising inside of him at the thought of finally getting rid of that human; he wants to kill her so badly.

“Look me in the eye and promise me that, kid,” Lance says, staring directly at him.

Setting his gaze onto the detective, Oliver stares at him with no intention to back down. But after several seconds of intense stand off, with Lance looking as if he has no plans on breaking, the Bellator has to give into those submissive instincts that have flared ever since Felicity entered his life. With a quiet huff, Oliver averts his eyes, toeing the ground with his shoe almost shyly. He can’t lie to Lance, not again. He can feel that guilt welling up in his chest as he remembers how he’s been lying for days, _weeks_ , about knowing nothing about Sara’s fate.

As soon as Oliver lowers his eyes, Lance mutters with a roll of his eyes, “I knew it.”

“We’re keeping your bow for now,” Lyla speaks up, crossing her arms. “We’ll give it back to you once we’re certain you’re not going to immediately make Price into an arrow porcupine.”

He snarls at them, but he already knows he’s lost this battle. “Can we just get inside, please?” he growls, exasperated.

“Calm your horses there, bucko,” Lance raises his hands placatingly, fixing him with a stern look. “You go in there with your head screwed on in angry mode and you’re definitely going to stir up a fight.”

“Detective, I am _fine_.”

“You’re hyped on adrenalin. You’re going to throw a punch the first chance you yet,” Lyla confirms. She casts a glance back towards where Diggle disappeared with his mate, murmuring, “Maybe it would have been better to keep Felicity here.”

“I want Felicity safe and out of the way of harm,” Oliver says firmly. “And guys, I am _fine_. I won’t start a fight. I’m calm.” Seeing their wariness, he adds, “You have my permission to tranq me if I get physically violent.”

With that reassurance, Lance and Lyla nod and step out of his way, allowing Oliver to storm up the front steps and into the house. That fury sweeps over him again as he catches Price’s scent upon stepping through the doorway, lips curling up in a rumbling snarl that is purely instinctual and full of hatred. The sight that meets the Bellator when he strides through to the living room, quaking with pent up anger and clenching his fists by his sides, is an unconventional one. There are clearly two sides to the room: Price is on one side with two other humans that Oliver recognises as scientists from the facility, and then the Queens and his team are on the other side, arms crossed and looking very, very unpleased. He’s surprised by the fact that the female that must be Kate Spencer, and Tommy’s father, Malcolm Merlyn of all people, are trying to mediate by standing in the middle.

“Thank god,” Price says, and to Oliver’s suspicion and shock, she sounds genuinely relieved. “Check him over, see if he’s hurt. I can’t believe they allowed him to so recklessly endanger himself, walking head first into danger.”

One of the scientists standing next to Price tries to move towards him, but the Bellator hunches and growls ferociously, eyes flashing with anger. Warily, the scientist slows his stride, coming fully to a stop and then backing off slowly when his snarl increases in volume and intensity. Oliver will _not_ allow Price or any of the conservation scientists near him. “Don’t come near me,” he hisses. “You have no right to be here, and no right to _care_ about me, after what you’ve done.”

“Director Price, please take a step back,” Spencer orders. “You’re making him very uncomfortable, obviously. Keep your distance, please, before I have to ask Detective Lance to step in.”

She nods at Oliver, conveying an air of respect with that small motion, and the archer jerks his head in a grateful nod back. He already likes this new human. She knows how to put people back in line, how to make her presence large and important in a room. She’s confident, and if what Lance said is true, and she’s on Oliver’s side - then she is going to be an asset to them.

“Poor thing,” Price says, a fake concerned expression plastered over her blank face, although her grey eyes remain cold, cruel and emotionless as they always have been. “He must be very distressed due to his condition and the trauma he just went through. Going out there alone to fight in this state - he needs to come back to the conservation for some anxiety treatment.”

She begins taking careful steps towards him, unfazed by the Bellator’s fierce growling, but as soon as she is within three metres of them, Oliver’s little sister shoves past her, rushing forwards to stand in front of the archer protectively.

“Don’t _fucking touch him_!” Thea spits.

“Miss Queen, please move out the way. You are acting like a child.”

“Do NOT talk to my daughter that way!” Moira says angrily, striding forwards elegantly with Walter beside her, so all three of the Queens are now standing in front of Oliver, blocking Price’s path to him. “And for your information, we didn’t allow Oliver to do anything! He can do whatever he damn well pleases. He’s his own person! Dr Snow signed off to say he was within his rights, healthy, and stable enough to make his own decisions. He did not endanger himself, and he did not go alone to rescue Miss Smoak - Ms Michaels accompanied him at all times, and we monitored him throughout his outing.”

A gleam appears in Price’s eyes, which only makes Oliver nervous, and even more furious. Crossing her arms across her chest, the horrible female simply raises her chin, announcing, “Dr Snow was wrong to sign that off. Considering his condition, he shouldn’t have been allowed out in the field at all. She is not able to make sensible decisions and provide adequate care for him. For his own safety, the Bellator must be placed within the custody of doctors and health professionals with his best interests in mind.”

Oliver was so focused on Price that he didn’t even notice Diggle walking back in, but now the bodyguard can’t keep quiet any longer, cutting in thunderously, “How dare you even suggest that Caitlin doesn’t have Oliver’s best interests in mind. Dr Snow appreciates the fact that Oliver is a sentient, intelligent being. She determines the best course of action regarding Oliver’s care with that in mind, as well as his mental and emotional state - which _you_ and your scientists care _nothing about_. Your idea of keeping him safe from the outside world consists of locking him up in a cell with water, food and drugs to keep him compliant and falsely happy for the rest of his life.” He narrows his eyes, and then adds lowly at the end, “And what do you mean, Oliver’s ‘condition’?”

A somewhat triumphant, gleeful air takes over Price’s body, and she seems to realise she has gained the upper hand, because she asks smugly, “You haven’t been told, have you?” She sweeps her gaze over the room, only growing more pleased when Oliver’s friends and family exchange baffled glances. “None of you know. Oliver does, judging by his body language. Dr Snow must have told him. But neither of them told any of you.”

Nausea twists Oliver’s stomach and he can’t help but begin to tremble, wrapping both of his shaking arms around his middle. Price _knows_. It was always an opportunity that she did, after STAR Labs servers were hacked. She knows that he’s pregnant, and now knows that he and Caitlin haven’t told anybody yet. She’s going to try and use it against his friends and family, manipulate this information to present it as proof to Kate Spencer why they aren’t capable of looking after him. But that isn’t any of his friends’ or family members’ faults. Caitlin just confirmed it to the Bellator, and he’d immediately run off to save his mate - he hasn’t had _time_ to tell anybody yet.

“What are you talking about?” Tommy questions.

Price drags her gaze over to Oliver, fixing it onto him. He shivers, desperately wanting to avert his eyes, but finding that he’s frozen in place, staring at the cruel human. He’s vulnerable, and nothing infuriates him more, but right now, he knows she’s going to force him to admit the truth. “Tell them, Oliver,” she commands.

“You don’t get to tell him what to do,” Lance barks at her, glaring, before he turns to the archer, softening. “Do you have something you want to tell us, kid?”

“No,” he whispers, swallowing, directing his eyes to the floor.

“Oliver,” Lyla says gently. “Do you have something you _need_ to tell us? Something that… only you and Caitlin currently know about? Something that Price thinks she can hold over you?”

“Because I promise you, Oliver, we’re not going to let her take you away,” Diggle continues, his voice so reassuring that the archer has to take a shuddering breath to steady himself. “Whatever information she has on you, we’re not going to let her exploit it.”

There’s a beat of frigid silence, and then the Bellator exhales forcefully. “We - we wanted to wait,” he manages, voice wavering. “Caitlin, she - _I_ wanted to wait to tell you all. I wanted to tell Felicity first. I only found out this evening and I - I haven’t had time to process properly yet. I didn’t _not_ want to tell you all, please, you have to know that.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine,” Moira soothes, hands flitting over him mid-air, as none of them seem to want to touch him in his agitated state. “We’re not going to be mad. You can tell us.”

“And - I don’t want you all to make a big deal out of this.”

Laurel’s voice is firm, and calm, as she says, “Oliver, you can trust us. We won’t be angry, and we won’t make a big deal out of it. Please, just - I think we’re all a little nervous right now, especially because you’re so reluctant to admit what it is you haven’t told us.”

Oliver rakes his gaze over his friends, family and team. They all appear open, reassuring, but also curious. Price, on the other hand, looks hungry, the smirk dancing on her lips filling the Bellator with rage, so much that his fingers twitch, itching for his bow and arrows. Within milliseconds, that nervousness he felt before, that anxiety at the idea of having to tell them all about his pregnancy - it vanishes. His anger makes him confident. Who is Price to force him to confess personal information?

“No,” he says calmly. Everybody’s expressions morph into ones of shock. “I’ll tell you all, but on my own terms. I’m not telling you something deeply personal because _she_ ,” he aims a glare over at Price, “Is manipulating me to. I’m not bending over for her, of all humans.”

“But…” Thea’s voice is small, causing the archer to glance over at her. She’s biting her lip, shifting, and strange instincts within him, probably big brother instincts, tell him he needs to comfort her. “You _will_ tell us? Right?”

“Of course, I will,” he says, offering her a smile. “I promise, I will. Later. Tomorrow. Once _they_ have gone.”

Price makes a disdainful noise at the back of her throat. “You’re no longer the warrior you were created to be. You’re neglecting your city, your duties. Being around these people, being influenced by Miss Smoak and your family, it’s made you soft.”

“No, they’ve made me _stronger,_ ” he says fiercely, taking a threatening step towards her. To his satisfaction, Price looks slightly afraid. “Felicity has made me _better_. I’m better with her. And even if I have become ‘soft’,” he bares his teeth at her, “I’m still tough enough to take you down. To tear your conservation to the ground if you lay a finger on me, on my mate, on _any of us_.”

Price shoots an exasperated glance towards the female, Kate Spencer, who has been watching these interactions with a calculating gaze. “See? They can’t keep him under control. He’s dangerous. These people, they are clearly unreasonable; they cannot think rationally due to their overwhelming emotions concerning him. The Bellator would be better looked after in the conservation.”

“‘The Bellator’ doesn’t seem to think that,” Kate says. “And he seems to have an opinion of own - which is, he doesn’t want you anywhere near him.” She turns towards Oliver, and the archer dips his head, observing her quietly. Her body language is friendly enough, and he can sense a hint of frustration radiating off her - that is clearly directed more towards Price than any of the rest of them. “Oliver, I’m here to decide who exactly should be awarded temporary custody of you until the hearing and trials. Due to legal reasons, the custody cannot be awarded to a singular person or family. It must be to an established organisation, that will continue the conservation of your species.”

He nods, straightening his back. He switches into negotiation mode, eyeing Kate as he questions, “What are my options currently?”

“The first would be to go back into the custody of the GMECC.” When Oliver snarls aggressively at that, Kate quirks an eyebrow. “Which, I’m guessing, is not your favourite idea. Miss Lance, Detective Lance and Mr Diggle have provided enough ample evidence to suggest that is not the best course of action, and the courts have advised against it, since you are filing offences against them. Second option would be the custody of the SCPD, third Queen Consolidated, and the last STAR Labs.”

“And it’s my choice?”

“I make the final decision, but you can get a say in that, yes,” Kate confirms.

He thinks for a moment. There is absolutely no way in hell that he will go back to the conservation, and he’s not very comfortable with the idea of being watched over by the police, even if Lance does work for them. That leaves Queen Consolidated and STAR Labs. But, in all honesty, the thought of even briefly being in the custody of QC puts a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why, precisely - it’s a twinge at the back of his mind that makes him cringe at the concept of it.

“STAR Labs,” he decides. That way, Caitlin will have main custody of him, and the archer knows that the doctor will actively encourage his relationship with Felicity, not try and stamp it out or put a damper on it like the other organisations might attempt to. “I trust Caitlin.” He glances over to his mother and Walter, who are gazing at him disappointedly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, and your company. I just… know that Caitlin knows what’s best for me. She knows what I want and how to help me. So, Ms Spencer, if you’ll be so kind to oblige me, I choose STAR Labs.”

After a second, Kate nods, taking her phone out and picking up a file, which is lying on the coffee table. “I can’t find any argument against that. Dr Harrison Wells has already been consulted and would be happy to take custody over you, and Dr Snow will be your primary carer. I just need her to sign some forms; I’ll hand them over to the courts tonight, and tomorrow, you’ll be free from the conservation, Oliver.”

His breathing hitches, and his chest aches at the mere thought of finally being _free_.

“There are some conditions,” Kate continues. “Oliver, you’ll be allowed to remain in Starling City until the first hearing, but after that, due to being under the custody of STAR Labs, you’ll have to move to the location of their headquarters’ site, which is in Central City. You’ll stay there until the trial ends, and the case closes. Legally, you must continue your duties over Starling City whilst you are living here, as long as you are capable of doing so, and you must remain in contact with the SCPD. Is this okay with you?”

“Can I stay here at the Queen mansion until the hearing?”

“Yes.”

He hesitates, but asks, “And it doesn’t matter if I’m a relationship?”

Kate doesn’t look thrown by his question, almost as if she expected it. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

Swallowing, the Bellator adds quietly, “Even if that relationship exceeds purely romantic and becomes, uh…” He trails off, blushing slightly. He’s not embarrassed by the possessive, extremely sexual thoughts he’s been having of finally claiming Felicity as his mate in a carnal manner, but saying it aloud in front of all of these humans - his friends, family and team - is not very appropriate.

But Kate seems to suspect where his mind has turned to, but she smiles and deduces, “What happens if your relationship takes an intimate turn? Oliver, what you and Miss Smoak get up to in the privacy of your own bedroom is nobody’s business except your own.”

“Then yes, I accept the conditions,” he says simply.

Price looks absolutely furious. “No, this isn’t fair,” she spits out. “These people are clearly not capable of giving him the care and attention he needs. How can you expect them to care for him properly when they don’t even know that he’s -”

Oliver cuts her off with a ferocious snarl, bounding forwards with his fists clenched. He’s ready to attack her, tackle her down to the floor and end her life if possible, but Lyla, Lance and Tommy all grab the Bellator, holding him back, whilst Thea and Laurel step into his sightline and try and soothe him.

“I believe, Director Price, that is Oliver’s way of saying ‘goodbye’,” Kate says, with a very unsympathetic smile. “We’ll see you at the hearing in a week.”

“Now in all due respect,” Moira says, voice stiff and eyes afire. “Get out of my house.”

“This isn’t over,” Price grits out.

“It is for now,” Kate replies. “You have no jurisdiction anymore, Pamela. Oliver doesn’t belong to you.”

“He will,” she replies aggressively. “He will belong to me again. His body is our property. The conservation _will_ take back what belongs to us, Spencer, mark my words.”

“Oh, just shut up!” To everybody’s complete and utter shock, Moira slaps Price across the face. The female falls back, spluttering and blood dripping from her split lip. Both Thea, Tommy and Laurel all crow in delight, Walter and Malcolm Merlyn looking impressed, even bringing their hands together in a slow clap. “You will _never_ lay your hands on my son, ever again! And if you do - I will destroy your reputation, whilst Miss Smoak decimates you digitally - and I’m sure that both Mr and Miss Lance can make your life a living _hell_ when it comes to legal jurisdiction.”

“You’re trespassing on private property,” Lance adds. “If you don’t leave now, Director Price, I’ll have to place you under arrest.”

Looking furious, Price hisses, “Fine.” She whips around towards Oliver, and he stares back defiantly as she sneers, spit flying from her lips, “Don’t get used to this sort of freedom. Your body belongs to me,” she leans in, whispering so only he can hear, “That _baby_ belongs to me.”

And with that, glowering at all of them, Price and her scientists make their exit. The female’s gaze lingers on Oliver somewhat thirstily as she strides out of the living room, but both Laurel and Lyla bring up the rear, forcing both her and her lackies to leave the house. As soon as the front door shuts, and a resounding silence falls, Oliver allows himself to relax, and a grin to spread across his face.

He’s free.

The conservation can no longer dictate his life. He’s free, to be with Felicity, to have his child, to do as he pleases. He’s his own person. Sure, he’s going to technically ‘belong’ to STAR Labs for the next few weeks due to being under their custody, but Caitlin won’t hold him captive.

He’s free, and it’s the greatest feeling in the world, equal only to that joy that he’d felt when Felicity finally accepting being his mate.

“You should have let me have my bow,” Oliver says, vibrating with glee. “I would have put three arrows into her back as she left.”

“You know, I actually agree with you,” Lyla laughs. “Congratulations, everybody. We’ve won. We got Oliver away from Price and the conservation.”

“For now,” Kate reminds them. She offers her hand to Oliver, who rushes forwards to shake it eagerly, conveying his sincere gratitude. “It was lovely meeting you, Oliver. We’ll see each other again soon, at the hearing.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, grinning.

“It was my pleasure,” she smiles. “Now, don’t you have a girlfriend to go and celebrate with?”

Yes, Felicity. He managed to push his concern for her to the back of his mind so he could deal with Price and the scientists, but now they’re gone, he can focus solely on his mate - and finally claiming her. Buzzing with excitement, Oliver goes around the room, shaking hands and pressing kisses to cheeks and hugging his friends and family, before he pretty much sprints for the stairs.

The thought of finally being alone with his mate, finally being able to make her his, in every sense of the word, causes his hands to tremble with excitement. Heat pools in his gut, those primal instincts to _claim mine_ thudding in his head as he prods gently at their bond, searching for her. She responds, her poking back at him lucid and soothing. She’s awake. She’s alright. But there are still threats; there’s still the possibility she could get hurt. She was taken from him, she could so easily be taken again. A growl erupts from his throat. He needs to protect her. Catching sight of his bow and quiver sitting by the doorway, from where Lance and Lyla must have left them earlier, he scoops them up. As soon as he has his weapons in hand, the Bellator takes the stairs two at a time.

_Get to Felicity, get to mine, get to her._

He bursts into their shared bedroom, calling out for her with a low-pitched, drawn out whine. Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of Caitlin, packing up her first aid kit and looking very startled at the archer’s sudden appearance. Seeing the doctor reminds Oliver of why Caitlin needed to look over Felicity in the first place, because she was drugged and unconscious when he brought her back, and he rumbles anxiously. The room smells like her, that vanilla, honey and lavender scent washing over him, calming him a little, but he knows he won’t be fully at ease until he sees her. Until he has her underneath him. Until he has her crying out his name.

“Hi, Oliver,” Caitlin greets him.

“Is she -?”

“Felicity’s fine,” Caitlin confirms, realising what he’s asking before he can even finish. “She’s fine, Oliver. She’s awake; whatever sedative was given to her has worn off. She may have some bumps and bruises, but she seems to be physically alright, although rattled mentally. She just needs rest.” She sweeps her eyes calculatingly down his own form. “How are you?”

He doesn’t process her question properly, instead dragging his gaze searchingly across the bedroom. “Where is she?”

Caitlin’s lips tick up into a faint smile. “She’s in the bathroom. She’s going to wash and take a shower, change clothes. She’ll be out in a few minutes, so you don’t need to disturb her,” she adds, only because she has to reach forwards and grasp Oliver’s arm cautiously, to stop him from storming into that bathroom; he wants to sweep his mate into his arms so he can hold her as quickly as possible. “Now, I’ll ask again. How are _you_?”

“Okay,” he replies, slightly dazed. He keeps his eyes fixed intensely on that bathroom door, fingers rubbing together worriedly. That door is the only thing keeping him from his mate. Patience is not his virtue - he wants her _now_. “I had to fight, but I wasn’t hurt. Kate Spencer is giving STAR Labs custody of me.”

Caitlin looks pleased. “Yes, she told me earlier that was one of the options. I’ll have to contact Cisco and Dr Wells tonight to tell them the good news. I’m very happy to hear you’re no longer under the conservation’s thumb, Oliver.” She pauses briefly, watching him, and then questions hesitantly, “Oliver, did Price try and bring up…?”

He exhales. It takes tremendous effort, but he forces himself to turn towards her, so he can look the doctor in the eye. “She did. She tried to make me tell everybody. I didn’t, in the end, but they all know that something’s up. We’ll have to tell them soon.”

“We will, yes. It takes a village to raise a baby, Oliver,” she teases.

“Price tried to rile me up,” he frowns. “She said that I belong to her, that the _baby_ belongs to her.”

“She’s wrong.”

“I know. I wanted to shoot her,” he glances away annoyedly, “But Lance and Lyla took away my bow and quiver.”

“Are you still wanting me to pretend as if I haven’t already told you so you and Felicity can find out together?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Oliver, if that’s what you want to do, that’s what we’ll do. When do you want to do it?”

“Tomorrow,” he answers immediately. “Maybe just before lunch? And then we can tell everybody else at lunch.”

“That’s a good plan,” Caitlin smiles. “Look, I have to go down and sign Spencer’s papers to officially take custody of you. Please try and get some rest tonight, okay?”

“We will. Thank you, Caitlin.” He knows it’s rude, but the Bellator wants to get the doctor out of the room so that when Felicity comes out of that bathroom, he doesn’t have to delay his claiming.

“Tomorrow is going to be a very heavy day. Not to mention, you have to get back to your duties over Starling, so you’ll be out most nights from tomorrow onwards.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Caitlin.”

She picks up her bag, and makes for the door, but before she exits, she halts, raises an eyebrow and asks pointedly, “Do you want me to tell everybody to leave you and Felicity alone for the rest of the night?”

He ducks his head, embarrassed. She can see right through him wanting to get her to leave. Perhaps he isn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. “Yes, please,” he answers, voice almost a mumble.

“Alright,” Caitlin chuckles. “Oh, and just so you’re aware - both you and Felicity are clean. I checked when I did your blood test, and had to check Felicity as well when we did that blood transfusion.”

He can tell by the warmth in his face that the tips of his ears are going red as he shuffles sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“... Felicity’s on the pill, but I put some condoms in the top bedside drawer if you -”

“Yes, thank you!” he says loudly, blushing.

“I just want you both to be -”

“Caitlin!”

“And afterwards you’re going to need to tell me about -”

“ _Caitlin!_ ”

“I’m your doctor, Oliver! I have to know about these things!” When he just aims an exasperated, pleading stare at her, she rolls her eyes. “Okay! I’m going, I’m going!”

“Thank you.” Oliver accompanies her to the door, opening it for her and moving back so she can pass through. The fact that Caitlin knows that the Bellator is planning on having sex with his mate is embarrassing enough, let alone her trying to encourage him to be safe and inform her about it all once they’ve finished. “And thank you for checking over Felicity. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” she beams back him. Just as she’s stepping out the door, however, the doctor adds hurriedly, “And don’t do anything too strenuous, like up against the wall or in the shower or -”

“ _CAITLIN!_ ” the archer balks.

“I’m just looking out for you both!”

“Go!” he orders, eyes wide. “Now! Please!”

She winks, before finally leaving. “Have fun.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment :)
> 
> Game for the comments this week: Baby gender, and names!! What gender do you think the baby should be, and do you have any names in mind?
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


	27. The Climax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension explodes between Oliver and Felicity, and the Bellator finally claims his mate in an intimate manner, solidifying their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Chapter 27. The chapter a lot of you have been waiting for.
> 
> I'd like to give a massive thanks to Melissa (Mel_Sanfo on AO3 and @melsanfo on Tumblr) for essentially co-writing this chapter with me. She is an absolute goddess and I would not have been able to do this without her. She is an incredible human being, and please know Melissa that I love you. A lot. A hell of a lot. Thank you :)
> 
> To everybody else, I hope this lives up to your expectations, and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
> 
> **Rating Change** : Rating change to an ' **E** ' for this chapter, for scenes involving sexual intimacy.
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** : Sex, and discussion and implied male impregnation.
> 
> Game for the comments this week!: At the end of your usual comment, tell me who you think is the most trustworthy character, and the least trustworthy. (This excludes Price. For obvious reasons.)

* * *

It’s the click of the door closing after Caitlin, and the water running in the bathroom, that prompts him to action. Though the room that they’ve been sharing at the Queen Mansion has given him a sense of security before, now all the windows and the door leave him with a sense of foreboding that he can’t quite shake, so he moves into the spacious walk-in closet and gets to work.

Once his bow and quiver are placed close at hand, clothes come off of the hangers noisily, only his, or more accurately, Oliver Queen’s clothes, piling up on the floor. Suits, followed by shirts, ties, jeans, anything and everything that he can get his hands on, end up on the floor, creating a sizeable bundle of fabric, before he walks back into the bedroom and strips the bed, gathering everything into his arms and entering the closet once more.

In the end, there’s a sizeable nest, with the clothes as cushioning and the bedding as a last touch, close to the back wall of the walk-in closet. Several times, Oliver stops his work to look towards the doors, assessing the single point of entry into the space, how far it is from the nest and just how quickly he can get to his weapon, chuffing lightly to himself when he approves of the calculations in his brain.

“Oliver? What’s going on?”

By the time his mate makes an appearance at the entrance of the closet, the Bellator has removed his jacket and boots, keeping his black undershirt and leather pants on whilst he waits, crouched by the side of the door. The moment Felicity takes a step into the makeshift den, glancing around curiously, all bets are off. The archer stands, to his full height, grabs her by the waist and lifts her, as if she weighs nothing. She yelps, but doesn’t struggle, just staring wide-eyed at him as he settles her at the foot of the nest he’s created. Oliver rapidly moves towards the closet doors, closing them and flipping the small latch they have as a locking mechanism for good measure.

“Um… Oliver?” Felicity asks, somewhat hesitant. His breath hitches in his chest as she blinks up at him. “Is there a reason why we’re in the closet?”

The sound of her voice, so nearby, and so clear after being sedated, paired with her heavy scent wafting over him, makes something uncoil within. A deep, possessive growl bursts from Oliver’s chest, before softening into a drawn out chitter. His shoulders relax a fraction, his breath coming in a bit easier; his sense of paranoia is not threatening to overwhelm him for what seems to be the first time in forever. Since she was taken from him. 

The moment Oliver turns to face Felicity, he allows his eyes to take her in. As if for the first time.

His mate, with a backbone of steel, is so very small physically compared to him that it makes his insides ache. Her frame is perfect for him wrapping his arms around her. He knows that her size has nothing to do with the power within, but right now, after everything that’s happened, after his conversation with Nyssa, he can’t stop thinking about how small she truly is. Would it have been different if she were taller, bigger, and stronger? If she knew how to fight? Would she have got hurt if she fought? 

Yet, he can’t think of anyone who’s stronger than his Felicity.

With her golden hair still wet on the tips from her shower, her ever present glasses both shielding and bringing out the blue of her eyes, and her face clear of make-up, she threatens to make his heart burst from her beauty. Dressed comfortably after her shower, she looks like home. And the beast within, that desperate animal that forced its way into his mind when she was taken, roars again. That thundering snarl that built up inside of him erupts once more.

_Claim._

Oliver can’t help himself. His body takes him to her, in an instant and he finds his hands on her shoulders, thumbs brushing the soft straps of her pink tank top. His lips crash down on her own. There’s no gentleness, no indecision or hesitance on his part. The kiss is like no other they’ve ever shared, even in their most passionate moments. It’s bruising, with sharp nips of his teeth that are followed by his soothing tongue, tasting her lips over and over again until they part and he conquers the inside of her mouth.

And his mate, his glorious mate, gives just as good as she gets. Her little and dexterous hands cup his sides and bring him even closer to her body with a purr, her fingers bunching the fabric of his undershirt. Still, the Bellator doesn’t feel close enough.

Even in his desperation, as Oliver pushes her back with his body, he makes sure to cushion the back of her head with one of his hands before crowding her against one of the compartments of the walking closet. He chuffs to her comfortingly, although the sound still sounds protective and territorial. The dark wood against her spine, through the thin fabric of her top, is cooler than she expected, he knows, by the way her back arches, pressing her even harder against his seemingly overheated body. 

As much as his claiming compulsion pushes at his senses, there’s one more need that exceeds everything else. Pulling back from her lips, the Bellator stares deeply into her eyes before slowly removing her touch from him. Moving Felicity’s hands up above her head, so that her arms follow, he holds her against the wood with his body whilst his blue eyes drink her in as he releases a huff, licking his lips.

“Stay still,” he manages, voice husky and deep.

Yes, Nyssa assured him that Felicity’s unharmed. Yes, he believed the woman, mostly because of her relation to Sara and the fact that he sensed no deception from her during their conversation. Even Caitlin gave his mate the all clear, medically. Still, he has to see for himself. He failed to protect his mate in her time of need, and now, there’s no other choice, but to verify her health.

The tank top offers little resistance, and although there’s a small surprised gasp from his mate, he doesn’t let it deter him. The garment is discarded, thrown over his shoulder and given no second thought; the archer’s eyes carefully scan her pale skin, from the height of her rounded shoulders, to the length of her toned arms, down to her soft and flat stomach. There are no bruises. No cuts. No signs of Felicity being harmed, in any way, and that fact sends a shiver down his spine, the relief so pure he can’t help but let go of her hands and falling to his knees before her, exhaling and relaxing ever so slightly as he rests his forehead against her stomach.

Oliver’s shoulders instantly tense with anticipation when her nimble fingers cascade their way through his hair, Felicity whispering, “It’s okay, I’m alright. I’m okay.”

And with that reassurance, he finally lets that desperate need to check her for injury go, giving in to his base urges.

Their height difference leaves the top of his head at the height of the band of her white bra, the pattern of tiny red roses, disguised as polka dots all over the fabric, sending a thrill of warmth through him. After all, it is so very Felicity. No frills, no lace. Simple, yet quirky, and beautiful. His lips glue themselves to her skin once more, pat first pressing gentle, tender kisses to her stomach and waist, a sharp need to taste her rising within him. He wants to rub his scent all over her and do the same with hers, on his own body. The skin on her sides is so soft and inviting he can’t help himself. Oliver’s lips attach to it, suckling and nipping while his hands explore her hips and down her thighs, over the fabric of her grey lounge pants.

_Claim._

His fingers make quick work on the drawstring at the waistband of her pants. The Bellator can feel Felicity’s heartbeat picking up, her breath coming a bit faster than normal rate. His mate doesn’t protest his movements, in fact brushing her hands over his shoulders with a soft, pleased hum, encouraging him.

It’s as if, through their bond, she knows he needed this. Deep down, he knows, she needs it too. The infallible connection, the intimacy. Their bond is already thrumming, buzzing with pleasure and filling Oliver with such desire that his hands almost shake as they glide over her smooth skin.

Peeling the grey fabric of the sweatpants off of Felicity is easy; once it rolls past her hips, it simply falls, leaving his delectable mate in her underwear. A matching set, it seems, the little boy-short cut panties holding the same pattern as her bra.

The fact that there are no wounds or bruises on her lower body seals the deal for Oliver, along with the spike of her scents, the soothing lavender and vanilla from her skin seemingly taking a back seat to the honey, which grows somewhat sweeter, with her arousal.

Fixing his lips onto the skin right above her hipbone, the Bellator wraps his arms around her waist and brings her flush against his face. His mouth nibbles and sucks on the flesh there tenderly, causing a moan to rip from his mate’s throat. Oliver isn’t satisfied though, despite the fact that the sound sends a jolt of need straight to his cock. Only when he knows the skin he’s tortured with his lips and teeth and tongue will display a sizeable lovebite does the Bellator let off and stand once more, realizing for the very first time that leather is not conductive for these types of activities. The tightness of his pants is unsurprisingly uncomfortable in his half hard state.

Felicity goes to speak, her eyes half lidded and body trembling beneath his touch, but Oliver cuts her off with a primal growl, that softens off into a purr as he nuzzles into her neck, nudging her chin upwards with his nose so that he can plaster possessive kisses into the hot skin there. She’s his. She’s his mate. He’s going to mark her as so, and make sure that nobody will ever doubt their connection, ever again.

Instinct, more than consciousness, drives Oliver to turn her around roughly, pressing her once more against the wood of the compartment. His front plasters to her back and he’s thankful that his mate is so in tune with him that she knows not to touch him, not now. Instead, Felicity’s fingers find a ledge on what he realizes is a shoe storage partition, and she holds onto the wood whilst he crowds her smaller body, his nose burying itself in her hair as he whines, his hips giving an experimental thrust against her backside.

“ _Oliver!_ ” she gasps, and it sends a flash of need through him. The way she breathes his name, half choking on it as she pushes back against him, causes him to do it again. Felicity’s breathing stutters.

Her submission to his needs has him reeling, in the best of ways, and he uses his hands to explore her. The skin of her back, the soft touch of the cotton straps of her bra, and the length of her arms. One of his hands sneak to the front of her throat and angles her head to the side, not roughly, yet far from tenderly, his lips finding a new favourite spot to mark on the curve of her neck, which he attacks with renewed vigour, his free hand pulling her hips back into his. A ferocious, possessive rumble bursts from his chest, which makes her shudder deliciously.

The contact between her ass and the front of his leather pants is wonderful torture; he ruts into her with more intent at the sting of pleasure, growling. From the very beginning, Felicity’s shape has been very appealing to Oliver, especially the way her skirts always seem to curve on her bottom, so he takes the chance he doesn’t know he’s been waiting for to show her, with his motions, just how much her body affects him. Tight leather pants be damned.

With the scent of honey intensifying and the mental bond between them pulsing with need, the hand Oliver’s been using to guide her movements back slips further down, thumbing the waistband of her undergarments before his fingers disappear under the fabric. Her honey scent explodes around him, another sweet moan escaping her when his fingers find her folds, already wet for him. She shivers in his arms at the first brush of his fingers and the archer holds her tighter, his arm banding below her breasts while his lips, teeth and tongue leave marks on her skin.

“O-Oliver -”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, voice husky and deep as he nips at her earlobe with a soft chitter. “I’ve got you.”

The guidance provided by their bond, along with pure instinct, drives Oliver’s movements. Coating his fingers with her arousal, he strokes her hidden lips until she’s shaking, her hips seeking his out of her own volition, restarting the rutting motions that brought him so much pleasure, and threatening to derail his concentration. A small growl of warning makes her stop and he rewards her with another sharp nip to her neck before letting his fingers dip further into her folds, looking for that bundle of nerves he knows will give her great pleasure.

It’s like lightning. Her whole body shudders and a sharp gasp escapes her as he toys with his prize, a gentle stroke, followed by a flick, his fingertips painting inconsequential patterns on and around the little nub, whilst his mate trembles and shudders, moaning quietly and spreading her legs a bit more for him. 

“Like this,” the Bellator rumbles, kissing her shoulder, making sure to scrape the skin with his stubble whilst using his free hand to tweak one of the hard nubs he feels under the fabric of her bra. “I want to feel you like this. I _have_ to,” he admits, dipping his fingers further down her wetness.

“ _Yes_.”

The response is a whisper, barely a breath, from his mate, and it means everything.

With the heel of his hand still applying pressure, one of his finger tips circles her entrance before plunging in. The push and pull motion is instinctual, emerging from the depths of his mind, where he’s neither Oliver Queen, nor Oliver the Bellator. It comes from the place where he’s simply a man. With her essence coating his fingers and her body shaking more and more against his, the need to fulfil her grows, so he adds another finger and experiments with pressure, speed, force. 

Her reactions, her sounds, the way her body responds to him and the bond between them, all serves as a map, with the sole purpose to bring her pleasure. He learns as he goes, never stopping the peppering kisses and nips on Felicity’s skin, never forgetting to knead and tweak her still cotton clad breasts and nipples, his sharp breaths mingling with her own as he helps her climb. 

The Bellator can feel her body giving in, her thighs trembling with the exertion of staying up right along with the mounting bliss assaulting her senses. Her grip on the wood turns her knuckles white, Oliver knows she’s fighting a losing battle. Soon, her hips are once again moving, finding his, rubbing against him with her maddening curves, and he doesn’t have it in him to stop her this time. Instead, Oliver uses the rhythm she sets, syncing his questing fingers with every push of his hips against hers, making her gasps and mewls turn into full fledged moans of desire with the increase of their speed.

It’s glorious.

When Felicity shatters, her inner walls fluttering, trying to cling to his fingers, the back of her head nestles onto the curve of his shoulder and neck. Her whole body quivers, undulating in drunken bliss, over and over again as she rides the waves of her pleasure, growling and whimpering a semblance of his name, like a chant.

It’s hypnotising, and it heightens that instinct within him, causes it to explode.

_Claim._

It’s only after Oliver feels her coming down from ecstasy, through their bond, that he removes his fingers from her. One small tear, at the fabric on her hip, and the soaked cotton flutters, forgotten, to the floor. The arm that held Felicity’s back to his front finds its way to her back and though he hates the fact that he has to move his body away from hers, only slightly, he has no real experience with the clasp he encounters. It takes a bit of fumbling with his nimble fingers before it comes undone. In a moment, Oliver has the straps lowered, down to her elbows. Pulling his mate’s pliant body away from the wood, he lifts her with a snarl, cradling her in his arms for a long moment before settling her, on her back, on top of the nest he’s created just for them.

Felicity’s blue eyes are still glazed with pleasure as Oliver looks down at her from his height, and he’s tempted, so very tempted, to just look at her. The evidence of her arousal is still clinging to her slightly parted thighs and the apex of her legs, her flushed skin and wild hair evidence of what he’s just done to her. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” she whimpers, voice barely audible.

And then she moves. Her hands are trembling, but she starts hurriedly pulling her bar off. The moment Felicity discards the last piece of clothing, Oliver shakes himself out of his stupor and got to work on his own clothes. The shirt’s stripped off first, over his head and tossed off to the side, to places unknown. The leather pants prove a bit more difficult. He can’t contain the chitter of relief he emits when he undoes them, rolling them down his legs along with the boxer briefs he wears underneath.

Free of clothes, he lowers himself to all fours at the edge of the nest and crawls his way up to his mate, a low growl rattling deep within his chest. His mate has been pleasured. She’s been pleased once, but that isn’t enough, not for him.

“I need…” his voice wavers between a snarl and a groan, far deeper than the usual tone of voice he uses specially for her.

“What do you need, Oliver?” His mate murmurs, reaching out with one of her hands, her fingertips barely grazing the stubble on his jaw.

Taking her hand, the archer brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip before he nips her, on the wrist, letting her hand fall from his grip afterwards.

“Claim.” 

It’s one word. 

The only answer he has.

“Then _claim me._ ”

That’s all the permission he needs.

Lowering both hands to her body, Oliver caresses the length of her torso, grasping behind her thighs as he both lifts and shifts her body to the side, as if she weighs nothing, until she’s lying with her front to the many layers of the nest. The gasp of surprise on her part is like music to his ears, and the way her honey scent turns spicy, with a hint of smoke and paprika, speaks of not only her approval, but of renewed lust.

It takes most of his willpower to be careful, since he’s so much heavier than her. Still, the need to claim can’t be denied now. He covers her body with his, knees bracketing her thighs, skin touching from hips all the way up her back and his chest. He nuzzles the hair away from her neck, almost desperately, his hands lifting her hips as he pumps, his hard cock nestling snugly between her thighs and wet lips. 

He takes no notice of the soft fabrics below his knees, his focus on the velvet like skin he could surround with his body, the quiet sounds of his skin slithering against her most private parts. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her skin and he licks at it greedily with a growl, at the curve of her shoulder blade, the scent of her driving his need further.

“ _Oliver! Please!_ ”

His name is a plea on her lips. One that he’s more than ready to answer. All it takes is a tilt of his hips and a secure hold on hers as he thrusts forward, sheathing himself to the hilt. The heat of her wrapped snugly around his cock makes a loud snarl of satisfaction rumble from his chest. It’s almost loud enough to mute the delicious purr that rips from his mate. 

Almost.

Finally, finally, Oliver and Felicity are joined, and something seems to both crack and restore itself within him.

Their bond is writhing, like white noise, overwhelmed. He can feel it clicking more securely into place, their emotions connecting more intimately, their act sealing them as mates, permanently.

Biting the skin on the back of her shoulder, Oliver releases Felicity’s hips, allowing his hands to search blindly for hers. Once all their fingers are linked together, clutching at the fabric below, like a dance, his fear of separation is finally silent. There’s no way to tell where his body begins and Felicity’s ends, his broadness covering her completely, securing her, cocooning her. Instinct and pleasure makes his hips pull back, slowly dragging against her tightness before sinking back into her. 

It isn’t gentle. Nor is it slow. It’s desperate and needy. Thighs clenching, hips snapping back and forth, over and over again, the sound of his skin slapping against hers only driving him to plow deeper, to go harder. Her body trapped, pliant, submitting to both his needs and her own, which he can feel burning through their bond.

It’s pleasure unlike anything he’s ever felt before, a sort of completion he can’t have fathomed, yet it holds a bit of pain. Just as when he bit her, marked her, his mate is anything but idle. Felicity meets his thrusts, as much as she can, lifting her hips to meet his and lowering her head to latch her blunt teeth on the skin of his forearm. 

The slight tilt of her head gives Oliver the perfect opportunity to savour the spot below her ear, nibbling on it before taking her earlobe into his mouth and scraping it, as gently as he can make himself do so, with his teeth. He’s panting, just for her, the mixture of a groan and a whine dripping straight into her ear, uttered only for her.

“Need…” is the only word that’s discernible from him.

“Yes, _yes_!” His Felicity cries back almost incoherently, finally letting go of his forearm and clutching at his fingers even tighter. “Take me, Oliver!”

Oliver can feel her walls fluttering, seemingly tightening around him and the feeling causes him to go into overdrive. He ruts into her with as much force as he knows, in the back of his mind, won’t harm her. The climb Felicity performed before is happening again, only this time he’s right there with her. His own body is coiling tight, like the string of his bow, and there’s a tingling at the base of his spine he’s never experienced before beckoning, demanding that he sink deeper.

She’s chanting his name, like a mantra, the syllables of it garbled with her pleasure and growing louder. It’s overwhelming. The scent of her, the taste of her skin and sweat, the sweet, sweet, noises she makes and the pleasure she takes from him. The pleasure he gives her. The pleasure he takes from her. It’s an infinite loop between them, mounting and growing, echoing from one to the other.

Her body gives in to the climb first, shattering into bliss once more and taking him with her. One thrust, and her walls tighten around him. Two, and it’s delicious agony, how her body attempts to keep him rooted in her. Three, and he follows her, the ecstasy snapping and forcing him over the edge as well. His back bowing and his head tilting back as he roars his completion, the feeling of emptying into her a sweet release that blanks his mind and takes his sight from him, momentarily, until all he can see are starbursts of white.

Lodged as deep as he can be within his mate, Oliver shudders and trembles, the aftershocks of bliss crackling through his body like electric shocks. Throughout their mating, he held himself above Felicity, but now, he feels almost boneless. A vulnerable, contented sound being pulled from his throat, the Bellator nestles into his mate, relaxing his body until he’s lying fully on top of her, forcing her deeper into the nest, breathing heavily against the back of the blonde’s ear.

“ _Mine_.”

“ _Yours,_ ” Felicity whispers back to him. “Always yours.”

Basking in their post sex bliss for several minutes, Oliver just closes his eyes and _breathes_ , feeling so incredibly sated and proud, of what they both just achieved, together. The memory of her climaxing underneath him will be ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life, and he knows he won’t be able to think of anything else except that feeling of her clenching around him for the next few days.

He only slips back into the present when Felicity starts to squirm underneath him, making a soft noise of discomfort. Immediately, he slips off of her, rolling onto his side as he rumbles concernedly. Humming, Felicity curls up, turning so she can press up against his own naked body, plastering their chests together.

“ _That_ ,” she murmurs. “Was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

A profound sense of smugness sweeps through him, and Oliver huffs a laugh, propping his chin on top of her head after pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead. As he wraps his arms around her, drawing her warm body closer to him in the nest, he says softly, “This wasn’t just sex. We made love.”

“Yes, we did,” Felicity agrees. There’s a brief pause, and then she adds with a giggle, “And we were very, _very good at it_.”

He laughs, but then grows serious for a moment, drawing back to drag his eyes over her naked form. Her skin is covered with red marks from his mouth and teeth, blood welling up to create prominent hickies that will mark her visibly for the next week or so as _his_. “You’re alright? I wasn’t too rough?”

“I am _great_ ,” Felicity enthuses, reaching out to entwine their hands and encourage him back towards her. “Not too rough at all. God, that was _amazing_.”

“I’m very glad to hear,” he replies honestly. “I was mostly going by instinct. I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d…”

“Oliver, you just gave me multiple orgasms. You can be assured that your instincts, however primal they may be, result in you being a _phenomenal_ lover.” She blinks, squeezing her eyes shut before fluttering her eyelids, looking dazed. “I’m still seeing stars.”

It’s when Felicity yawns that Oliver realises that they are both pretty tired, blissed out and in need of some recovery time. Their lovemaking wasn’t merely physical - it was mental, and emotional as well. Their mental bond is still on the fritz due to the overload of pleasure shared between them, quiet static gently buzzing at the back of his brain.

“Maybe we should take a nap before round two.”

“Round two?!” Her bright eyes pop open wide, and he can sense her excitement through the bond, the honey tint in her scent pulsing powerfully for a second due to her arousal at his words.

“You want that?” he teases.

“Oh, yes, _please_.”

“Nap first,” Oliver sighs, dotting kisses on her bare shoulders and cheeks with an overjoyed smile. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against her ear and growls, “Then, I’m going to make you scream my name so loudly that we wake the rest of the house up.”

She blushes, turning her head away from him so that she bares her neck to him submissively. “Oliver. Behave. I don’t think that would be very considerate to our friends and your family.”

The Bellator casts an intense glance over her neck, smirking when he sees the lovebites littering her flesh, a deep, dark colour due to the blood circulation. “Don’t really care about being considerate right now.” Dropping his head down to rest on her shoulder, he whispers huskily, “Definitely need to give you some more visible hickies.”

She snorts, amused as she shoves his chest. “You’re ridiculous. Sweet, and extremely hot, but ridiculous.” After a second, however, she snuggles back against his chest with a contented smile. “I could use a nap, though.”

Oliver protests her trying to sit up and pull the blankets and sheets from the nest, rumbling and catching her wrists to halt her struggling to yank a pillow from beneath them. Standing, Oliver drops a kiss to the top of her head with a grin and heads out of the closet, unlocking the door so that he can go and scrounge some more blankets from where they’re stored in a box under the bed. Felicity whines at the loss of his warm body beside her, curling up tighter and drawing the corner of a bunched up sheet over her thighs, to most cover the bottom half of herself.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he soothes, tapping his forefinger on her bare knee. “Stay there.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she promises. “Although, we’re definitely going to have to re-evaluate this den of yours being in this closet.”

“Den of _ours_ ,” the Bellator corrects.

A brilliant smile crosses her face, and Felicity repeats happily, “ _Ours._ I like the sound of that.”

The archer can't help but rumble appreciatively, ducking to land another affectionate kiss to her forehead. He can feel her eyes following his movements as he creeps out of the closet and pulls out the box. Oliver doesn't care that he’s stark naked, and he chuffs happily when he finds a massive grey woollen blanket as he roots around, one that will be big enough to wrap around his body and his mate’s easily.

As the Bellator straightens, however, the lock of the bedroom clicks and the door quietly creaks open. He whips around, tensing with a snarl as he angles himself in front of the closet door protectively.

Caitlin stands frozen in the doorway, doing her best impression of a deer in the headlights. Oliver just stares back at her, not caring that he's naked and bare in front of her; he’s comfortable enough in his own body now not to flinch under an observing pair of eyes, and Caitlin is a doctor - she's bound to have seen a naked man before. She is very determinedly keeping her gaze fixed above his chest, blinking rapidly and also avoiding eye contact with him. Considering that she said she wouldn't let anybody disturb them, her presence is a surprise.

“Sorry, I - I thought you were already asleep and I - I left my cell phone in here,” she says weakly.

He nods, stepping back to allow her in. Caitlin rushes inside, deep blush colouring her cheeks as she crosses the room as quickly as possible to snatch up her phone. She’s trying very hard not to look at the naked Bellator, which amuses him greatly. As she passes the entrance to the closet, she stops, going still again.

“Hi, Felicity,” the doctor says steadily.

There's a beat of silence, and then Felicity’s slightly hoarse, sheepish voice squeaks back, “Uh, hi, Caitlin.” From where the doctor is standing, she probably has a full view of his ravished mate in their nest, and Oliver stifles a chuckle, deciding he wants to see how this progresses.

“Do you need anything?” Caitlin questions, sounding remarkably calm. “Water? Some snacks? A few blankets?”

“I - I think Oliver has it covered. T-thank you.”

“Okay,” she says. “You two have a nice night. Breakfast is at nine tomorrow morning.” She pauses. “The arnica you’ve been using for Oliver’s bruises will help clean up those hickies of yours.”

“Yes, _thank you_!” Felicity replies, voice high pitched with embarrassment.

Caitlin nods to herself, finally moving away from the closet and back towards the exit, phone in hand. Oliver follows her there, unashamed that she just walked in on them in their post-sex glow. She seemed excited about them commencing the intimate part of their relationship earlier. As she is about to leave, however, half closing the door behind her, the doctor turns back to him with a confused expression.

“One question,” she says. “Why the closet?”

He shrugs, gathering the blankets more closely to his chest, but also so that they cover up most of his extremities. “Small and cosy space. Only one entrance and exit, so easily defensible. Don't have a den and nest anymore because I can't go back to the Foundry right now, so I needed to make a new one.” He glances back towards the space, where he knows his mate is curled up and waiting for him, and he smiles. “Well, I needed to make a bigger one. I’m designing this one for the two of us.”

Caitlin appears strangely understanding, and much more comfortable now that he’s shielded with the blanket. “Are you going to need some more bed sheets and blankets for it?” she asks. “I'm sure Moira and Walter will be happy with you using some from around the mansion.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he agrees.

“Speaking of which,” the doctor cuts in, voice dropping to a lower volume. “Part of the reason I need my cell phone is to arrange a date and time for getting that tracker ship out. The surgeon works with STAR Labs and he’s available over the next few days.”

“Arrange it for as soon as possible,” Oliver informs her.

“I’m planning to. But, uh, we’re going to have to go to one of the STAR Labs sites, and I thinking that whilst we’re there, we might as well…” She exhales sharply. “We might as well try and get an ultrasound done.”

His heartbeat is pounding in his ears. “So soon?”

“The baby’s growing at a faster rate,” she reminds him quietly. “And… we’re going to need to do check ups regularly. I don’t think I need to tell you that the fact that you’re a male means that, unfortunately, there is a much higher probability of miscarriage.”

Oliver swallows, glancing away as tries to focus himself in the present, ground himself so he doesn’t slip into flashbacks. He uses the blanket, and the steady thrum of his and Felicity’s mate bond, to anchor himself. “I know,” he replies. He hates how dejected he sounds. He was so, so happy only half a minute ago. “We need to be careful.”

“Hey, it’s just a precaution,” Caitlin reassures.

“I know. I know. But that’s tomorrow. That’s hours away. I’d just - I’d just like tonight to not have to worry about anything. Right now…” He casts a longing glance back towards the closet.

“And _that_ is my cue to leave. Very sorry about the interruption, Oliver. I’ll let you get back to your mate. See you tomorrow morning.”

He chuffs delightedly at her acknowledgement of Felicity being his mate, puffing his chest out and rearing his head. Shooting him one last, strange yet entertained look, Caitlin departs from the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind her. As soon as the door clicks into place, a deep rumble erupts from his chest. The Bellator clutches the grey blanket and sweeps back into the closet, once again closing it, blocking he and his mate off from the outside world, where prying eyes might interrupt their alone time.

Felicity is sitting up against the back wall in his nest, sheet draped over her legs, with a mortified blush reddening her cheeks, flushing her bare neck all the way down to her breasts. To him, ruffled and aglow as she is, she is stunningly beautiful. Oliver kneels down on the edges of the nest, offering her the blanket with a grin.

“I can’t believe Caitlin just walked in on us both naked,” Felicity mutters, shaking her head as she takes one corner of the blanket and tugs it over herself. “That was so humiliating.”

“She came in at her own risk,” he responds easily. He slips his hands into hers and silently urges his mate to lie down, purring as Felicity sighs contently and slides down so she’s lying next to him, wrapped around his side with her hand braced on his chest and head resting on his shoulder. “She knew exactly what we were going to be up to.”

That only seems to make it worse in Felicity’s mind, because she groans into his flesh. “Oh god, I’m never going to live this down. She’s probably down there right now telling all of our friends and your family about us having sex. She gets super excited about these sort of things.” She realises something suddenly, and his mate bats his chest, threatening lightly, “You better not tattle to her and give her all the dirty details for ‘scientific research’, mister.”

“As if I would do that,” Oliver chuckles.

He finally manages to arrange the blanket so it’s enfolding them both, cloaking them both enough that they won’t get cold during the night, but also allowing them to just enjoy the feeling of each other’s bare, hot skin. He knows he’s not going to get cold - Felicity’s body is like a small heater beside him, and Caitlin has said repeatedly that his body temperature runs several degrees higher than the average human’s, so he doubts she’ll need another sheet.

Underneath the blanket, he turns so that he’s facing her, snaking his arm around her hips to bracket them against his. Oliver’s affectionate growl vibrates through them both, and Felicity nuzzles under his chin with her own soft keen, trying to bring him closer to her by hooking one of her legs over his.

His eyes slam shut and he chokes back a heated moan at the feeling of the proof of their lovemaking slicking her thighs. But he can’t give in to that excitement that streaks through his blood; they’re both tired. Round two has to be saved for tomorrow morning.

That doesn’t mean, however, that Oliver can’t kiss her.

He does so gently at first, tipping her chin back with a finger so he can lap at her lips, seeking entry, and when she relaxes into him, they kiss for a good minute before breaking away from each other, gasping. Their bond is exhausted, fried after their tremendous lovemaking, but it still buzzes faintly at the back of his mind, filling him with elation. Felicity’s head falls limply onto his collarbone as she hums, and he resists the urge to sneak his fingers between her legs, instead settling into the nest. The archer can feel her do the same, unwinding, breathing evening out.

“So what were you discussing with Caitlin earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“You were talking with her for a few minutes, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying.”

Oliver drags his teeth over his bottom lip, debating for a moment what he should say. Eventually, he just murmurs, “Yeah, Caitlin and I were just talking about something.”

“What something? Do we need to talk about it?”

“We have a lot to talk about.” He keeps his eyes closed, listening solely to her heartbeat and breathing, which is why he knows when she tenses at the statement, pulse fluttering and breath stuttering for a brief second. “Nothing bad. I… just have things I need to tell you. Things that we might need to discuss.”

“Important things?” Felicity questions, voice quiet.

“Yes,” he answers honestly. He rubs his thumb along her hipbone, smiling when she emits a soft purr. “But not important enough that they can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Is it about who kidnapped me, and why?”

Oliver doesn’t see any point in lying. It’s partially about Nyssa, since she is the one who revealed to him that Sara is still alive. “Kind of.”

“Is it about Price and the conservation?” His mate’s tone grows cold and stony with this question, her body stiffening up against him.

Soothing her with a rumble, rubbing tender circles with his thumbs on her hips and the small of her back, Oliver informs her lightly, “Price and the conservation don’t matter anymore. I’m being removed from their custody and placed into STAR Labs’.”

“Oh, Oliver, that’s wonderful news.”

“I know. They can’t try to separate us anymore. They have to leave us alone. The Starling DA, Kate Spencer, she was here. She said that we can stay here in Starling until the hearing, and I have to take up my duties again. We’ll have to move to Central City after that though, until the trial finishes.”

“Central’s not so bad,” Felicity mumbles into his shoulder. “It may be 600 miles from here, but it’s okay. Sure, we have better pizza than them and their bus schedule is crappy… I imagine we’ll all travel and stay there as a group?”

Smiling, Oliver presses fond kisses along her jawline, grin widening when Felicity shudders and makes a quiet, happy sound in response. “That’s a few weeks off yet. Let’s just focus on now.”

There’s a beat of tranquil silence before Felicity questions, “So is that what we needed to discuss?”

He sighs. “Not all of it. But we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? We can talk about it now, if you want to. Is it about your nightmares?”

“Felicity, we’re both tired. This isn’t urgent, I promise.” He can sense her frowning, so he pinches her waist delicately, raising an eyebrow when she jumps and gives a little growl in protest. “Stop frowning. It’s alright. Do I need to give you another orgasm to make that scowl go away?” he adds teasingly.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say no to that.” Felicity grinds up against his front, wet sex brushing up against his half hard cock, and Oliver squeezes his eyes shut with a primal snarl. It takes a hell of a lot of willpower for him to reach out, take a hold of her hips and lift her away from him, to stop her making contact with him. “Aw,” she pouts, disappointed.

“No. Nap first. Then round two.”

“Fine,” she sighs, exhaling deeply so that her body relaxes around his form. “But that round two is definitely happening.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers against her skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmurs. “Goodnight.”

And the pair of them drift off to sleep in each other’s embrace, sated and calm and _happy_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading :) Please leave kudos and comment!
> 
> Game for the comments this week!: At the end of your usual comment, tell me who you think is the most trustworthy character, and the least trustworthy. (This excludes Price. For obvious reasons.)
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13
> 
> Feel free to come and scream at me about this chapter on any of those platforms.


	28. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More flashbacks, followed by a nice morning in for Oliver and Felicity. Caitlin and the couple finally have that talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blessed yesterday by Josh Segarra when he hugged me at HVFF London. So today, I shall pass on his blessings to you guys, with this chapter.
> 
> It was meant to be 6K, but ended up being 8.5K. Meh. Whatever. It happens. Also, I'm not going to be able to update for a while due to other fic commitments (prays to the Lord that I'm able to update HTTYV sometime soon) and because of finals exams. Ya see, in the UK, they just stretch it out. Stretching out our suffering :) Yay.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. Thanks for all of your support and love once again.
> 
> Comment game this week: Pick a character from the Queen family or team. What do you think their reaction to the pregnancy will be?
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings:** Major discussion and implication of male impregnation. Physical touch, medical discussion concerning it, and thought processes concerning it beginning.
> 
> (5/30/17 - Minor Edits)

* * *

_Everything changed after Michaels and Rochev came to visit, and Oliver was informed by the keeper of his pregnancy. At first, the change was rather subtle. The number of visitors he received, people who came and stared at him through the wire fences, talking to his keeper about him as if he was livestock, decreased. Which he didn’t mind - those humans were always noisy and boisterous. It meant that Oliver wasn’t uncomfortably forced to stand out in the open for them, shrinking into his own skin._

_The food they were feeding him changed. They were trying to alter his diet, and it didn’t escape Oliver that they were now feeding him certain foods that were higher in nutrients and vitamins. They never gave him any foods that would present the risk of food poisoning. About a week after this diet alteration, Oliver found that his keeper wasn’t punishing him anymore for any mistakes or misdeeds. Yes, occasionally he would still get a sharp slap to his wrist or a painful prod on his chest, but there were no beatings, and no psychological punishments either, which was rather relieving._

_He only discovered this change due to the fact that they began to place a set of electric weighing scales on the ground after delivering his food in the mornings, trying to get Oliver to stand on it; he wasn’t hit when he skirted around it instead, snatched up the meal and scarpered back to his tree._

_Ivo explained it to him, about two weeks after the keeper had revealed to Oliver he was pregnant. Well, Oliver supposed it was around two weeks. The only way he could properly monitor the weeks passing was by covertly scratching bark off trees and keeping an eye on his hair length, which was now hanging down to his chin. Ivo was now Oliver’s official doctor, and although they were not meant to be speaking to each other, Ivo made it out to be him checking over some of the archer’s past wounds that were caused by his keeper’s overly enthusiastic past beatings._

_Due to him being pregnant, the facility was taking no chances. They wanted him in peak condition, and his keeper had been instructed not to harm him, and to keep him in prime health. He was meant to be on a healthy diet that provided him with everything he might need, get plenty of rest and avoid stress as much as possible. This was, after all, the first ever_ homo bellator custos pregnancy. The scientists had no idea how this was going to run its course. 

_So everyday, they got Ivo to weigh Oliver, take blood and urine samples, and be given a tiny white pill. At first, Oliver refused out right to take it. But then the scientists proved to him that he had to take it, because if he didn’t, they would track him down in his enclosure, pin him to the ground and then force him to swallow it. And that was not fun. So he took the tiny white pill, he ate the food, he slept as much as he could, and he did what Ivo and the scientists wanted him to._

_But around three weeks after all of this, Oliver was tired. He was losing motivation. It struck him one night as he was curling up to go to bed… he was doing all of this, conforming to their demands and surviving, ultimately so that the scientists would get their baby_ homo bellator custos _to experiment on. He was growing a tiny, precious little baby inside of him, and what kind of world would they ever know?_

_Oliver wouldn’t ever be able to protect his own child. His baby would only ever know a cold, clinical and emotionless environment, where they would be subjected to horrific testing and beatings. It was heart-breaking._

_Oliver woke up one morning with dry sobs shaking him, having dreamt of his beautiful baby being prised from his weak arms and locked in a cage. And that morning, he didn’t get up. Even when the alarm sounded to summon him to the doors to collect his food, and to signify it was time for him to meet with Ivo to get weighed and collect his pill, Oliver didn’t move._

_He clutched his blankets to his chest, wondering what the point of even living anymore was if he existed to be a weapon, and a baby producing machine. If his purpose was to grow a baby_ homo bellator custos _for those scientists… then he would prefer to die. He wouldn’t be able to stand having his baby taken away from him and then being forced to watch the child being raised into a weapon._

_He missed breakfast, and then he missed dinner as well. He dozed most of the time, chest shaking with stuttering breaths, and then when the darkness came, Oliver slipped off into a restless slumber._

_The next morning, he was woken up by the alarm, and once again, he didn’t move. About an hour after that, when the Bellator just curled up and stared blankly at a particular branch, he frowned at the sound of rustling leaves beneath his tree. It took so much effort to physically get up that it pained him, and he released a low moan, crawling over to the edge of his nest to glance downwards. He snorted and pulled away, wrapping his blankets over his head when he saw that it was the keeper and Ivo. There was a basket full of food and medical equipment near them as they squinted up at the tree, obviously hoping to catch sight of him._

_“141,” the keeper called. “Stop pretending to be asleep, we just saw you.”_

_Oliver snarled, and rolled away back into the centre of his nest, grumbling unhappily to himself as he rubbed his stomach protectively._

_“Come down here, boy, you’ve missed your last three meals.” Oliver didn’t respond, just chuffing miserably to himself. The keeper’s tone was more irritated when he next spoke: “Get down here, 141. Do you want to be tranqed again and forced to eat? You need the food and the nutrients, you need to drink, and you need to take your prenatal vitamins.”_

_“He’s actually in a very inaccessible position right now,” Ivo said quietly, obviously not intending for Oliver to overhear him, but due to the Bellator’s enhanced hearing, he could hear exactly what he was saying. “We can’t risk tranqing him - he could fall out of the tree and get hurt, and it would be too dangerous to send anybody up there to try and collect him.”_

_“So you’re saying that he’s holed himself up and we can’t get to him?”_

_“Like a snow leopard on the top of a mountain cliff.”_

_The keeper sounded very annoyed now. “How do we get him down?”_

_“We can’t,” Ivo replied flippantly._

“What?”

_“We can’t get him down,” Ivo repeated. “We can try and coax him down using food and the promise of rewards, but I doubt that will work. He is slipping into a depressive episode. He is not motivated to keep himself healthy anymore.”_

_“My head’s got an axe hovering over it, Ivo,” the keeper hissed. “Do you know how much pressure I’m under to keep 141 and the offspring he’s carrying alive? I can’t afford to have him ‘slipping into a depressive episode’. He needs to eat, he needs to drink and he needs to take his damn vitamins. If I have to climb up there and shove them down his throat, I will.”_

_“He’s unhappy,” Ivo expressed clearly. “He doesn’t want to be alive at the moment, because he doesn’t feel as if he has anything to live for.”_

_“He’s got a kid to live for.”_

_“He’s got a kid who he thinks is going to go through the exact same treatment that he’s gone through. He’s got a kid who he thinks is going to be beaten, whipped and psychologically and physically abused like he’s been. We can’t help him. We’re humans, and at the moment - we’re the enemy.”_

_“So what are you saying?”_

_“I’m saying we need to reunite him with his pack. Quickly. Before the depression fully takes over and we end up finding a half-dead Bellator from an attempted suicide in a few days time.”_

_“You can’t know that’s gonna happen.”_

_“No, but if he’s refusing to eat and drink now, we can’t predict what his behaviour is going to be like over the next few days - what it could escalate to. Oliver may be resilient to physical torture, but mentally, he’s sensitive. He’s going to become more vulnerable due to the pregnancy, and his emotions are going to be all over the place. We need to treat this, as soon as possible. He’ll be more secure with his pack around him, and they’ll be able to support him, give him encouragement. They’ll even look after him if he gets too sick to look after himself.”_

_“I don’t like this. 141 is my Bellator, I’m not gonna expose him to the other ragtag, mongrel ones the other keepers have been saddled with. They could rip him to shreds.”_

_“They care about him.”_

_“How do we even know that’s going to work?”_

_“We don’t. But like I said, we’ve got to treat this quickly. If this depressive episode escalates into long term prenatal depression, he could lose the baby due to stress or worse - after the baby is born, suffer from postpartum depression and end up rejecting his own child. Then we’d have a dead Bellator and a dead Bellator infant.”_

“... Fine. _I’ll arrange it. Just… try and get him to come down from that tree and eat something. Gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack, that damn animal…”_

_Oliver rumbled and turned away, curling back into a ball as he heard the keeper storm off, and Ivo’s loud, somewhat desperate pleas for Oliver to climb down to the ground started up. He was too tired, he couldn’t be bothered, and he didn’t have the motivation. They could try and lure him down with promises of food and rewards all they wanted - they only cared about keeping Oliver happy and alive in terms of him being the carrier of the child._

_He dozed for several more hours, hunger pitting at the bottom of his stomach and making his abdomen ache. His body wanted food, needed food, especially so he could provide for the new life growing within him, but he didn’t want food. He didn’t want anything, except some sort of closure. Some sort of release from his miserable existence._

_Ferocious snarling from a short distance from his tree roused Oliver from his almost catatonic state. Blinking, he dragged himself to his knees with pained, exhausted grunts. What exactly was going on? It sounded as if some wolves were tearing each other apart on the other side of his enclosure._

_The growling sounded vicious and threatening enough that his instincts, which were warring with his logic, won the battle, and Oliver began carefully climbing down. Some primal part inside of him was telling him he needed to defend his territory, fight the intruders, despite his weariness. He stumbled through the ferns, clutching his arms around his stomach. Oliver came to an abrupt halt, half hidden by the vegetation, whimpering when his eyes settled on the sight several feet in front of him._

_Slade, Sara and Shado were crouched in a circle, facing off against one another, teeth bared and a feral gleam in all their eyes. There was a smaller, brunette man hiding behind Slade’s broad form, trembling as he backed off from the confrontation. Oliver was shocked for a moment, absolutely overjoyed to see his packmates, but confused at why they were acting so hostile towards each other._

_“Back off!” Sara hissed. “He’s my omega! I’ve claimed him!”_

_“You’re an omega yourself, you can’t claim another omega!” Slade bellowed back at her. “And you’re MY omega!”_

_“Slade, Sara, listen to yourselves! Fighting each other is exactly what they want!” Shado pleaded, trying to get in between them, but flinching when Slade rumbled threateningly at her. “Oh, stop it,_ Bèn! _I am your beta, you are meant to treat me with respect!”_

_“Not when you’re siding with HER about bringing another fuckin’ omega into our pack!” Slade’s voice rose to a shout. “Sara’s dead weight enough as it is! Don’t need another kid dragging us down into shit!”_

_“Who are you calling dead weight?” Sara yelled._

_“Stop it! Both of you!” Shado said. “Now is not the time to be fighting! You heard what Ivo said - Oliver is in here somewhere, and he is depressed. His life is at stake. He needs us!”_

_“Slade doesn’t care about Oliver,” Sara sneered. “If he turns out to be an omega, I bet you he’d encourage Oliver to finish himself off!”_

_Slade exploded, roaring out his fury as he leapt forwards, shoving Sara backwards onto the ground and looming over her. “I’ll FUCKIN’ MURDER YOU, KID!”_

_All of this was just much too stressful for Oliver. He was tired, he couldn’t process any of this properly, and his mind was screaming that he should do something to stop his packmates from fighting, but he had no idea what to do, and how to do it, when he was in this sort of state. With a strangled whine, he sank to his knees, hands shaking as his arms wrapped around himself defensively._

_Shado’s gaze snapped to him, and she barely gasped out, “Oliver!” before she sprinted over, managing to catch him beneath his armpits to halt his collapse._

_Oliver leaned into her side, and then shuddered. He let out a choked purr as Shado cascaded a hand gently through his sweaty hair. It was the first kind, gentle contact from another organism that Oliver had felt since he’d been taken away from his pack, that day Slade and Shado had broken his arm to reduce the frequency at which he was put through procedures. He groaned, ducking his head so that her fingers tenderly scraped at his scalp. He could very faintly recall his mother doing the same thing to him, late at night after he woke up after nightmares._

_“Oh,_ xiǎo láng.”

_“Shado,” Oliver whispered, burying his head in her neck, sobbing at her warmth, at the contact._

_Shado raised her voice, saying in a somewhat tense, sharp tone, “Slade, Sara, get over here.”_

_Barely a few seconds passed before Oliver felt Sara’s hands fall onto his back, rubbing soothing circles through his shirt as she shushed his crying. The blonde smelt just the same as she always did, although slightly muskier, and she tucked her chin on top of Oliver’s shoulder, nuzzling comfortingly. Sniffling, Oliver turned to hug her briefly, tears in his eyes as he was able to hug the girl he’d known and cared about for half his life for the first time in months. He caught sight of the new brunette male sitting on the ground, staring at them blankly. What he focused on more, however, was Slade, who hadn’t moved from his position before and was frowning at them._

_Reaching out with one hand, Oliver practically begged, “Slade.” He desperately wanted the older man to come over so that their pack could finally unite. When Slade’s frown simply deepened, nose twitching as he sniffed and eyed Oliver warily, he just began crying harder._

_“Slade, you are making him more upset!” Shado said, tugging Oliver’s arm. He was pulled back into her embrace, and he instantly relaxed, sobs getting quieter, when Shado curled her fingers around the back of neck and squeezed gently. It caused a submission response to rear up inside of him, his body slumping against hers. “Stop being such a stubborn_ báichī _and help us calm him!”_

_“He smells wrong,” Slade responded lowly. When Sara and Shado both hissed at him, and the male stranger made a soft noise of bafflement, Slade continued in a gruff snarl, “He smells both alpha and omega. But… he’s not either. And not beta either. If he’s omega, it’s my responsibility as pack alpha to protect him, but - if he’s alpha, I must contest him. I can’t protect and challenge him at the same time!”_

_“Who the fuck cares, Slade!” Sara shouted. “He’s depressed, he’s pregnant and he NEEDS US! Why do you always have to be such a dick about these things!?”_

_“Watch what you’re sayin’, girly!”_

_“I… I think you should go to him,” the new male said, and then when Slade turned and growled at him, the smaller man whimpered. He looked and sounded quite boyish, definitely was one of the younger subjects Oliver had seen. “Or, you could, you know,_ not…”

_“Not helping, Barry,” Sara threw at him, quirking an eyebrow._

_“Look, I’ll just…” Slade didn’t seem to know what to say, nor do. He looked very uncomfortable, and didn’t seem to want to approach any closer. “I’ll grab the food, medicine and shit that Ivo left by the gates for ‘im. Shado, think you can set up a base on the ground for us? Don’t think all five of us’ll be able to get up into that tree.”_

_“Sara, Barry and I shall begin constructing a shelter,” Shado nodded. With tremendous care and attentiveness, the woman began transferring most of Oliver’s weight over to Sara, so that he flopped on top of her instead. She then held out her hand to the younger man, Barry, saying firmly, “Come here, Barry. We’re going to collect some big teak leaves for the roof whilst Sara looks after Oliver.”_

_Pressing a small kiss to Oliver’s forehead, Shado chuffed to him before heading off with the young male, traipsing through the vegetation almost silently. Oliver tipped sideways due to his exhaustion, and he gave a squeak of alarm, but Sara helped him down to the floor. He curled up, settling on top of some ferns, head resting in the blonde’s lap._

_His pack was back. They were fractured, and a little broken, but they were together. Slade, Shado and Sara would protect him, and his baby. They would provide safety, look after them both. For the first time in months, Oliver felt hope._

A gentle kick to his calf rouses Oliver from his slumber, blinking groggily with half lidded eyed around the dark space. For a brief moment, he’s confused, tensing up. As soon as he opens up his senses, however, listening and sniffing carefully, he relaxes. Felicity’s extremely potent vanilla, honey and lavender scent hangs heavily in the air in the closed closet, her calm breathing and soft snuffling the only intelligible sounds.

During the night, the pair of them have moved positions so that his mate is lying on top of him, head tucked under his chin. Their legs are tangled together, hips firmly pressed together so that she and Oliver can feel the rise and fall of each other’s chests. By some miracle, the sheets and blankets from the nest haven’t become twisted and knotted around their limbs, still draped over them both so that they remain warm, although considering the heat that their bodies are generating wrapped together, the covering probably wasn’t needed.

Oliver sighs contently, smile gracing his lips. He shifts ever so minutely so he can free his arms and caress the length of her bare back lovingly. Her skin is so unmarred, so smooth under his fingertips that he purrs, nuzzling down into her hair, which is beautifully mussed from last night. His mate is simply radiant. Through their bond, he can feel how blissed out physically and emotionally she is, and he knows that she can most likely discern the same with him. Oliver is _happy_. If he could, he would remain in his position, in the safety of their den with Felicity curled up beside him, for the rest of his life.

As if sensing his consciousness and thoughts, Felicity arches against him in her sleep, contented chitter vibrating from her chest and causing her to exhale cool air onto his throat. It causes the hairs at the back of his neck to rise, and a shiver to course through his form. Emitting a low sound, the Bellator continues to trail his hands up and down her shoulders and back, thumbing carefully at the love bites, which litter her skin around her collarbones and shoulders. His purr turns possessive and pleased when his eyes catch onto the reddened spots where he has marked her as _his_.

His mate groans quietly when Oliver boldly decides to slowly drag his fingers over her lower back and over the curve of her bottom, down to her thighs. “Ol’ver,” she mutters, voice slurred and incoherent due to being half-asleep. “S’early t’get up. Sleep.”

She can’t possibly know what time it is, but she’s probably correct about it being early. Teasing her lightly with the pads of his fingers, he murmurs into her ear, brushing his nose up against it, “Not ready for that round two I promised you last night yet, baby?”

Felicity whines, and then she grinds herself down on him, her bare hot centre grazing his pelvis. That primal instinct roars to life within the Bellator again and he thrusts up to meet her downward movement with a growl. He flicks his mate’s blonde hair behind her ear with a wide grin splitting his face, hooded eyes taking in her naked body. Licking her lips, Felicity sits up on his lap, knees bracketing his hips, eyes fluttering tiredly and face flushed.

“You tired?” he questions, smiling. “Did I wear you out last night?”

“Not too tired for sex,” she mumbles. “But I need coffee first. And I need to take my pill.”

“I thought you said it’s too early to get up.”

“Well, I didn’t mean I was gonna go and get coffee now,” Felicity rolls her eyes, lying back down and burying her nose into his throat, tightening her arms around him. “Right now I’m… warm. You’re like a big, cuddly space heater. This is a very enjoyable position for me.”

“I’m not exactly complaining either.” The Bellator settles back down into the cushioning of the nest, sliding his hands up and in between Felicity’s shoulders, rubbing at her spine as he dots affectionate kisses on the crown of her head. “We can stay here for a while if you want.” To emphasise this, he thrusts his hips up to stroke himself against her centre, hissing at the wetness he finds there.

Felicity almost jumps out of her skin, glaring down at him with a huffed, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he replies innocently.

She narrows her eyes at him. “You know, two can play at this game, mister.”

Leaning down, she peppers hot kisses all the way down his jaw to his collarbone, where her teeth catch slightly, causing him to groan. Throughout this, she continues to rock back and forth, stroking over his half hard cock, and the Bellator growls, eyes slamming shut, at the slickness he feels. After about five seconds of this, however, Felicity moves away. Flipping her hair back, the blonde gives a cheeky grin, before climbing off him, beginning to stand. She doesn’t even bother trying to cover up her nakedness - it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, after all.

“But... I might just leave you in suspense for teasing me like that.”

Heaving himself onto his elbows, Oliver makes a low noise of frustrated protest, saying in a deep voice, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Felicity smirks. She prods her toe into the side of his naked thigh. “What are you going to do about it?”

The archer growls playfully, leaping to his feet. Felicity squeals, running away from him as he chases her, planning to slam her up against the wall and take her as his, once again. “Come here, you!”

They end up having round two on top of a duvet on the floor, and round three in the shower, against Caitlin’s orders. Oliver loses count of their total number of orgasms; considering how Felicity slumps against him and can hardly stand as they finish off round three, hot spray washing away the results of their lovemaking, it must be a higher number. Definitely more than half a dozen. He’s extremely smug about that.

Once they’re both clean and clear-headed, they head out of the shower. Oliver stops Felicity in her tracks as she begins dressing in her own clothes, grabbing her wrists and forcing them to her sides with a growl. His mate bears his marks on her skin, but he wants people to realise his claim over her; wearing the Bellator’s clothes and therefore smelling like him, is the ultimate way to do that. Felicity stands still at the edge of the stripped bed, watching him curiously as he ducks inside of the closet briefly to search out for some clothes for them both, that aren’t too badly wrinkled and don’t stink of sex.

In the end, Oliver reluctantly allows Felicity to wear her own skinny jeans and t-shirt, but insists on her pulling on one of his blue Henleys over the top. It’s massive on her, but when he scents her, he can smell his own scent intermingling with hers. He purrs happily, his eyes drinking in the sight of Felicity picking at the too-long sleeves that dangle from her hands, whilst he yanks on a pair of slightly creased jeans and a black sweatshirt.

The Bellator has just managed to begin what will be a very quick, intense round four, pinning Felicity down onto the stripped bed and starting to nip ravenously at her neck, tongue sweeping over the hickies and making his mate moan, when he hears footsteps. An interruption. _Again._

This time, their intruder knocks on the bedroom room, hesitantly, as if wary to interrupt. Oliver shares a look with Felicity, raising an eyebrow as she blushes. She’s obviously remembering Caitlin rushing in and seeing them both very naked, and very flushed, with post-sex vibes going on. They both stand, straightening their clothes and taking a step away from one another. Hopefully some distance will reduce the sexual tension that seems to just hang in the air around them now.

“You can come in, Caitlin!’ he calls out.

Her muffled voice replies, “You’re both wearing clothes, right?”

“Yes, we are,” he laughs.

The door clicks open, and Caitlin sidesteps her way in, breakfast tray in her hands. The archer tries not to chuckle at how absolutely relieved she appears at them both being dressed. “Moira and Walter have to leave for work, so there’s no group breakfast, but I thought I’d bring something up for you both.” The doctor’s eyes narrow as she sweeps her gaze over both Oliver and Felicity calculatingly. “How are you both feeling?”

“Fine,” Felicity responds lightly. At the same time, the Bellator responds enthusiastically, “ _Great._ ”

Quirking an eyebrow, Caitlin questions hopefully, “So that does mean that after last night you’ll-”

“We’re not giving you any of the details about our sex, Caitlin,” Felicity interrupts.

“Nothing about the other two times this morning, either,” Oliver smiles smugly.

“You didn’t need to add that.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs.

Felicity shoots him a playful glare. “Uh huh? Why? So you can brag about how you almost made me fall over in the shower? Twice?”

Caitlin squawks in horror. Oliver winces, recognising their mistake.

“In the shower?” the doctor repeats, slapping the archer in the arm, not even attempting to pull the blow. “In the shower!? I told you no strenuous positions! I specifically said not in the shower, and not up against the wall! Oliver!”

“We were careful!”

“You could have slipped and broken bones in the throes of orgasm!” Caitlin screeches. “You could have passed out after your powerful, intense sex, and cracked your head open! Felicity, why didn’t you stop him?”

His mate immediately raises her hands in defence of herself. “Hey, I wasn’t made aware that there were rules about the location of our lovemaking.”

“Yes! There are rules! Safety precautions, because you could have died!”

“Caitlin, we had sex, it wasn’t as if we were cliff diving, or swimming with jellyfish.”

“Sex is one of the most dangerous activities known to man!” the doctor insisted. “Hundreds of people die during sex every year! And not just from heart attacks, oh no. From reckless behaviour, such as _having sex in the shower_. Which you both just did! Against my specific orders, Oliver!”

The Bellator shifts and glances away in embarrassment, feeling suitably chastised. He turns, keeping his hand linked with Felicity’s, ready to drag her out of the confrontation, but instead his mate offers weakly, “At least we would have been dying whilst feeling immense pleasure?”

“Felicity, really not helping, honey,” Oliver mutters. She ducks her head into his collarbone with a breathy laugh, and he props his chin on her crown, grinning. “Caitlin, I promise you, we are fine. Nobody slipped, nobody fell over, there might be a few light bruises, and some hickies on Felicity’s end, but - no major injuries. We’re okay.” Fixing his eyes onto hers intensely, he adds for her benefit, “We’re all okay,” knowing that she must be worrying about the baby as well. But Oliver isn’t stupid, nor is he a bad father. He instinctively knows how to care for the baby by looking after himself. Sex won’t be off the table for a while yet. Well… he hopes not, anyway.

“Okay, I’ll leave it alone,” the doctor says, “As long as you promise you won’t have sex in the shower again, and keep that promise.”

“Technically I didn’t promise in the first place,” he hedges. When Caitlin hits him with a disapproving glower, he finishes, “But yes, I promise, no sex in the shower.” He pauses. “That - that applies to all showers, I’m guessing.”

Felicity looks so weirded out that he wants to laugh. “Oliver, I have no idea what just passed through your head to make you say that - but know this, we are never having sex in any shower other than the one in that bathroom. Which - which we will no longer be doing. Because no sex in the shower. We promise, Caitlin.”

Caitlin huffs, but seemingly appeased by their words, she turns away and places the tray down on the counter on top of the drawers. Oliver tugs Felicity by the hand, keeping their fingers linked as he urges her to follow him over.

There are two plates, one with a normal breakfast of toast, turkey bacon and mushrooms, presumably for Felicity, and then another, which has a range high nutrition foods. Oliver freezes in place for a moment, getting flashbacks to that bland diet that he was forced to eat whilst pregnant on the island, in the facility.

He startles back to the present when his mate gently eases his fingers out from his clenched fist, pressing a tangerine into his hand. “What’s that frown for?” Felicity murmurs, tapping his nose with the tip of finger.

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m not frowning.”

“You’ve got that crinkle between your eyebrows that means you’re either thinking too hard about something, or you’re upset and displeased, but don’t want to show it.” The Bellator chuffs amusedly when Felicity’s finger flicks up his nose to scratch at that furrow. She’s honestly so adorable his heart hurts. “Do you not like tangerines?”

“Oh, no, I like tangerines,” he says. “Just… remembering something.” She looks concerned, so he smiles and dots a kiss on her nose, reassuring, “Don’t worry. Eat your breakfast.”

Smiling, Felicity pecks him back on his cheek before diving in, spreading jam over her toast. Oliver takes a sip of the glass of milk on his tray, grabbing an apple instead of the tangerine and biting into it, savouring its sharpness. He watches, swallowing, as Felicity steals a small piece of watermelon from his plate and pops it into her mouth, winking at him. God, the things he wants to do to her...

“Actually, before you start properly eating your breakfasts,” Caitlin cuts in. “I need to tell you both something. You… might want to sit down.”

Ah. Here she goes. Oliver’s been expecting this. At least Caitlin is fulfilling his wish of her pretending not to have already told the Bellator, and telling he and Felicity together about the baby. Felicity looks confused, dropping the fork she just picked up, but Oliver smiles widely and gently grasps her wrists, leading her over to the stripped bed so they can hop up onto the end.

“Is this about why Oliver’s been acting weird and feeling so strange through our bond?” she asks concernedly. “Is he sick?”

Oliver startles, glancing down at her with wide eyes. “I’ve been what through our bond?”

“It’s just something I’ve been picking up on since - well, since you rescued me. I thought it might be anxiety or adrenalin last night but… it hasn’t really faded since then.”

“And you think I’m sick because…?”

“Well, it’s a queasy, itchy sort of feeling.”

 _That_ is what Oliver being pregnant feels like through their mate bond? The Bellator feels almost insulted. Sure, Felicity has no idea, but that’s their baby she’s talking about. Their child shouldn’t feel nauseating. He’s not even getting morning sickness yet. Although… Oliver has to begrudgingly admit that it does make some sense. The child is essentially leeching his body of energy and nutrients in order to grow. The only reason his body hasn’t recognised it as a parasite (and hopefully won’t, and won’t try to reject it) is because the baby has his own DNA, and is at this stage, by biological terms, a clone of himself.

“Well, you’ll be relieved to know that Oliver is not sick and he’s not unhealthy, Felicity,” Caitlin speaks up, when it seems as if Oliver is too preoccupied with grumbling under his breath about how his mate senses his baby as stomach-turning. “In fact, he’s the exact opposite of that. He’s -”

“Pregnant,” Felicity interrupts. When Caitlin stares at her, shocked for a moment, the blonde slowly shifts her gaze over to Oliver. The Bellator just sits, ramrod-straight, blinking at her owlishly. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Struck by a mind blank for a second, Oliver can do nothing but stutter, “Ummm…”

Felicity nods. “You know.” She turns back to Caitlin. “So he’s pregnant? He’s having a baby?”

“Yes, Oliver’s having a baby,” Caitlin confirms, although she looks slightly puzzled. Oliver knows his expression must be mirroring hers. How exactly did Felicity manage to work it out? Eyebrows furrowing, the Bellator looks down at himself, self-consciously prodding at his stomach gently. Is it that obvious that he’s pregnant? “How did you know?”

Felicity shrugs. “Wasn’t that hard to work out.”

“My mate, the genius,” Oliver whispers, shaking his head. He’s aghast at his own stupidity. Of course Felicity would realise he’s pregnant. He knows from researching her after their first meeting that she has an IQ of over 170.

Brushing her fingers through her hair, Felicity admits, “Kinda helped me figure it out when I noticed that he’s been subconsciously resting his hands over his belly all morning.”

Oliver groans, dropping his head into his hands. His entire plan, to have her think they were finding out together, is ruined. All because his instinct keeps urging him to protect the baby, by covering his abdomen. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs sheepishly. “I wanted us to find out together.”

“When did you find out?” she asks softly.

“I told him,” Caitlin says, sighing. “I was hoping it would reduce his reckless behaviour - and it did. He took Lyla with him when he went to rescue you last night.”

“Hey.” Felicity gently tugs at his shirtsleeve, shifting so she can angle herself towards the Bellator. He has his head ducked in shame and embarrassment, but she forces him to look at her directly, two pairs of blue eyes meeting as she tips his chin upwards. For a brief moment, Oliver is afraid he’ll see disapproval and anger in her gaze, but there is nothing but tender kindness. “Why didn’t you tell me once I was back?”

“I wanted to include you in finding out,” he mumbles.

“Oliver… you could have included me by telling me last night personally,” his mate says quietly. “I don’t like it when you hide things from me on purpose.”

“I wasn’t hiding it from you!” he protests, eyes flying back up to her face from where they lowered to the floor as she spoke. His voice is desperate. He needs to convince her, make her understand. “Felicity, I might have withheld the information but - I really wasn’t trying to hide this. I… I just wanted it to be a surprise. A good surprise. A good moment, one we could share together…”

His mate remains silent for several seconds, observing him with slightly narrowed eyes and pursing her lips. “We could have shared the good moment together last night.” Her expression grows troubled, eyes widening. “Oliver, did you not tell me last night because you… you didn’t want me to know immediately? Do you need time to process by yourself? I mean… this is your baby. If you didn’t want me to know then -”

“No, now you know that’s ridiculous,” the archer argues. “Of course I wanted you to know. I’m so glad that you know now.” It breaks his heart how Felicity appears so hesitant. When she starts to withdraw, the Bellator growls, his hands shooting out to take a firm grasp of her wrists, holding her close to him. “Don’t you _dare_ pull away from me.”

“Oliver…”

Then, staring straight into her eyes, the Bellator moves her hands so they are held against his lower stomach. There is no bump there as of yet, but he knows that soon, there will be. “This is our baby. Not just mine. It’s _ours_. Even if it’s not yours biologically… You are my mate, and this is our baby. I love you, just as I love our baby. You are everything to me, just as this baby is everything to me too. We are living this life _together_ , so we celebrate our triumphs and abhor our mistakes together. And if we are celebrating our triumphs together… then we will celebrate being new parents together.”

“Oliver, how do you even know if you _want_ me as this baby’s parent,” Felicity whispers, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how to raise a child!”

“And you think I do?” he laughs, the sound painful and forced.

Felicity stands and begins to pace, sheer frustration with a hint of terror plastered on her face. “Oh god. We’ll be awful parents. You can’t remember your own childhood, so you have no idea how human parents raise their young. I at least have _some_ knowledge in that area, although I have no proper expertise on dynamics involving two parents and a child. My dad abandoned my mom and I when I was seven, Oliver! And - and everything you know about parenting is from instincts genetically instilled in your DNA!”

“Um. Well.” He swallows, admitting warily, “Not - not completely.”

Felicity comes to stand still, staring at him. Caitlin looks like a deer in the headlights, watching their interaction from a couple of feet away. At Oliver’s words, she shakes her head with a wild, questioning look, and the Bellator knows what she’s silently saying. Is now really the best time for him to confess to his mate about having a child he cannot remember at the facility he was genetically modified in?

But if withholding information truly upsets Felicity so much, Oliver will come clean. They are _mates_. They’re meant to be completely honest to each other.

“What do you mean by that?” Felicity asks cautiously.

It all comes pouring out of him. Oliver explains everything: the keeper revealing his pregnancy; the change of the facility’s treatment towards him; the constant testing and weighing; his subsequent depression due to their dehumanisation of him and finally, all of these people knowing about somebody called _Theo_. Theo, who he suspects was his child. Theo, who Oliver thinks is the infant that he lost, or was taken away from him. By the end of it, he’s crying. The Bellator sits and trembles and weeps for his missing child, who he can’t ever remember losing.

His remarkable Felicity, his wonderful mate, responds to all of this by embracing him. She swings herself onto his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms over his shoulders, and she purrs and chitters soothingly into his ear. She comforts him, rubbing his back and allowing him to wet her shirt shoulder with his salty tears as he kisses him, over and over and over, along his jaw, on his neck, and on his lips. Each kiss purges a teeny, tiny piece of sadness and grief from him. But that emotion cannot just vanish into nowhere. Felicity is taking it from him. Through their mate bond, she is taking away little pieces of his sorrow, his suffocating misery; she’s absorbing them into herself. As his despair slowly dissipates, and hers grows, Felicity starts to cry as well.

He thumbs away her tears, muttering in a choked up voice, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” she whispers. “I’m utterly horrified on your behalf, but I’m so happy you told me. That you shared this with me. Now, I can help you make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“I was such an awful parent back then, I couldn’t even protect my own baby, I don’t even know what happened to it. How am I going to raise a baby? I have no idea what I’m doing and - Felicity, I can’t lose a baby again. I _can’t_.”

His mate’s expression grows determined, and her voice is fierce as she says, “You’re not going to lose this child, Oliver. Our baby is going to be safe. Nobody will take him away from us.”

He nods, his throat thick with emotion. The archer buries his head in her neck, deep rumble erupting from his chest. “What makes you think it’s gonna be a boy?” he manages to tease.

“Mother’s intuition.”

“Aren’t I technically the mother, if I’m carrying the baby?”

“We’re having a moment, Oliver, don’t ruin it,” she huffs, and he chuckles.

They hug each other tightly for another minute or so, before Oliver becomes aware that Caitlin is still in the room watching them. Flush spreading down from his cheeks to his chest, the Bellator gradually releases his mate. Felicity slides off his lap to settle cross-legged next to him, blushing and averting her eyes away from the doctor. Caitlin doesn’t seem to actually mind their blatant displays of love and affection; she has her head towards respectfully away, and is instead studying the wall rather intensely, giving them some privacy.

“Sorry about that, Caitlin,” Felicity offers.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” she reassures them, smiling.

His mate flexes her fingers around his, making the Bellator press his side into hers with a fond purr. “So Oliver is pregnant. Where do we go from here?”

“Did Kate Spencer’s court order go through? Have I been transferred into STAR Labs custody yet?” the archer questions.

Caitlin quickly reaches out to their breakfast trays and passes each of them their drinks, Felicity some toast and Oliver his half eaten apple. They begin eating quietly as the doctor draws up the chair from the dresser and takes a seat, lacing her fingers together as she explains. “The order passed through earlier this morning. You’re officially out of the conservation, and into STAR Labs’ custody. I’ve arranged an appointment with the STAR Labs surgeon, Dr Rhodes, for four o’clock this afternoon. He’s going to remove the conservation tracker chip from Oliver’s spine for us; I’ve already arranged for an anaesthesia to be used that will be safe for Oliver and the fetus, and I will be there monitoring the entire time. Dr Rhodes is also going to set up an ultrasound machine and testing equipment for me. I’m going to need to take a few more blood samples from you, Oliver, and a small sample of the amniotic fluid.”

“That won’t hurt the baby, will it?” the Bellator asks worriedly, gently rubbing his stomach.

“No, it won’t,” Caitlin assures. “But it’ll allow me to check the fetus’ DNA for any traces of Laurel or Felicity’s DNA. The ultrasound is just to check that the baby’s growing healthily at the correct rate.”

“Do we know how far along Oliver is?” Felicity questions.

“Considering you’re kind of already pregnant before you’re actually pregnant - don’t ask, it’s to do with fertility cycles - and from what I can tell by his hormone levels… Oliver’s probably around five or six weeks. I won’t be able to say for sure until the ultrasound later. Considering it’s a six month accelerated pregnancy, however, the fetus will be around the size of a nine week old human one. We’ll be able to capture it on the ultrasound easily.” Caitlin’s smile widens into a grin, and there’s a gleam of excitement in her eyes as she says, “You’re going to see your baby for the first time today, mommy and daddy.”

Oliver’s heart skips a beat, and he quickly whips his head around to share an exhilarated look with his mate, who also appears delighted. “I like the sound of that,” he whispers, beaming.

“Me too,” Felicity grins.

“I do have a question for you both, if you don’t mind answering it,” Caitlin says. A somewhat apologetic look sweeps over her face as they both tilt their heads towards her. “What do you want to tell the others? Apparently, Price revealed that the two of us were keeping something secret. Thea and Tommy haven’t stopped asking me questions about it, and I can tell Diggle, Moira and the others want to know as well.”

Oliver frowns, and he and his mate exchange thoughtful glances. The Bellator obviously wants his family, friends and team to know about his pregnancy. He can very vaguely remember the old human phrase, ‘it takes a village to raise a baby’, and having the support of his allies will be immensely helpful. At least he knows that Lance, Moira and Walter have proper experience in raising children.

“If it helps to know,” Caitlin steps forwards, “Usually people wait until the end of the first trimester to tell their families, just to be safe that the baby is okay. For you, that’ll be around nine weeks. So if you want, we can wait another three weeks or so and keep checking the progress of the fetus, and then once we know for certain that it’s growing healthily, we can make the announcement.”

Oliver chews at the inside of his lip, gazing up at her worriedly. “When… when will we know for sure that the chances of miscarriage are so low that it’s unlikely I’ll lose the baby?”

The doctor looks stricken. “Oliver, I - I don’t really know. I’m not really a trained midwife, and this is by no means a normal pregnancy. Normally, women have a physical anomaly scan at twenty weeks, which in your case will be thirteen weeks. After that, it’s pretty smooth sailing. Oliver, in all honestly, I don’t think we should dwell on any of that. Felicity and I will be taking good care of you, and there’s no point getting anxious over it. Stress isn’t good for you - and it won’t be good for the baby. Just trust that you’re in capable hands, alright?”

He bobs his head in a nod. “I trust you,” the archer says. He glances quickly over at Felicity, asking softly, “Would it be okay if we… waited to tell everybody? Just a little while?”

“Of course,” she agrees. “You’re the one carrying the baby, Oliver. If you want to wait, then we will wait.”

He smiles, dipping his head to brush against her shoulder affectionately and dropping a kiss on her cheek, before he turns back to Caitlin. “We’ll wait a few weeks,” he confirms. “Until then, can we just say the secret we’re keeping is something personal, and medical, so we don’t want to disclose it yet?”

“That’s fine,” the doctor assents. 

“How often will Oliver be having scans?” Felicity questions, squeezing the Bellator’s hand supportively.

“I have a feeling that as soon as you two see the first ultrasound, you’re going to want to see the baby as often as possible. That, combined with safety checks… I’d say scans at least every five days or so. We’ll have to record Oliver’s weight, waist circumference and blood levels daily. I know it sounds paranoid, but I’d rather be safe.”

“No, I’d rather be safe as well,” the Bellator sighs. “But… could we not do it in a lab or doctor’s room? Or… or outside?” Whenever those people ever used to test and examine him during his pregnancy at the facility, it was either done out in the open in his enclosure, or in a crisp, white room with enclosing walls and echoing silence. He doesn’t want his check-ups with this infant to remind him of the ones of his lost one.

Caitlin pales. “Oh, god, Oliver, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about… we can do it however and wherever you want. It’s meant to reassure you that everything’s going well, not make you more anxious and have flashbacks.” She taps on the bedpost, adding, “We’ll have to discuss you getting out in the field later. Considering your condition, we’ll obviously have to negotiate with DA Spencer and the police. We can’t have you actively putting yourself in danger.”

The Bellator huffs, kicking his feet against the bed. “I’ll be perfectly fine going on patrol. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop isn’t the stressful, exerting part. If I just reduce my zip line usage and avoid climbing up the bigger, taller skyscrapers, I’ll be sorted.”

“Wow. We are going to agree to disagree on that one,” Felicity says, shooting him an unimpressed, annoyed look.

“You think so?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, I know so.”

Their eyes lock and they’re engaged in a very heated stand off for a moment, before Caitlin breaks it, sighing exasperatedly. “Love-sick teenagers, that’s what you two are. I’m going to need to convince Cisco to invent some sort of memory bleach by the end of this week if you carry on like this. Stop eye-fucking and just eat your breakfasts.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos and comment :)
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13
> 
> Comment game this week: Pick a character from the Queen family or team. What do you think their reaction to the pregnancy will be?


	29. The Ultrasound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity receive a reception as they go down to the living room, and Oliver reveals some truths to the Lances. The couple head to the STAR Labs facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 updates, one for puppy!fic and one for DNTMBTM. I was super productive this weekend :)
> 
> Thanks for all your support, I really appreciate it! If anybody has any questions, feel free to ask them in the comments or contact me on Tumblr or Twitter.
> 
> **Trigger Warnings:** Major mpreg themes later in this chapter, including medical discussion and an ultrasound.

* * *

Once Oliver and Felicity finish breakfast, they traipse down to the living room hand in hand. Caitlin follows them down, eyeing them both in such a way that the Bellator feels rather guilty about getting so intimate with his mate with the doctor around. As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Felicity releases his hand, only so she can self-consciously tug the sleeves of his blue Henley over her hands, drawing close to his side so their hips bump together.

“Heyyyy, look who is it, it’s the lovebirds!” Thea greets them as they enter the living room. Oliver’s lips twitch up into a faint smile as he takes in his little sister lounging horizontally on the couch, her feet in Tommy’s lap. “Annnnd Felicity is wearing Oliver’s clothes - pay up, Dig, I totally called it! I knew the post sex possessiveness would kick in!”

“You told them we had sex, Caitlin?” Felicity groans, turning her head onto Oliver’s shoulder. She blushes a deep crimson whilst doing so, and she’s so adorable the archer has to press a kiss to her forehead through his amused chuckles. “Really? What happened to patient-doctor confidentiality?”

“Caitlin didn’t say anything,” Diggle rolls his eyes. He appears behind the doctor in the doorway, somehow managing to carry four cups of coffee in his hands, and Felicity immediately perks up at the sight of them. “But you’re forgetting that _Tommy_ , on the other hand, is only two rooms to the left of you.”

“Two rooms to the left of your _closet_ ,” Tommy grouses. “I have no idea _why_ you decided to have at it in the closet, of all places, and frankly, I don’t _want_ to know why.” He shoots them a rather firm look, which is quite out of character for him, as over the last few days he’s been more open, humorous and lively. “I hope you used protection.”

Felicity flushes, muttering, “Tommy…”

“No, I’m dead serious,” Tommy shakes his head. “Can you imagine the chaos that would follow if Oliver knocked you up, Felicity? The conservation would go ballistic. Oliver in their custody or not, Price would never leave you guys alone. So, I very genuinely hope you did use protection.”

Oliver stiffens throughout Tommy’s morose statement, forcing himself to tighten his arm around his mate’s waist and clench his other fist, so his hands don’t drift to his stomach protectively. All of what Tommy’s said has crossed his mind before, of course, and is immensely worrying. The conservation would go absolutely wild at the thought of a half human, half Bellator baby; not just ecstatic at the possibilities of an experimental subject it could present, but angry at the pure Bellator bloodline being stained and diluted with human DNA. Price, from what he can tell after what happened last night, is out for blood to get the child Oliver is currently pregnant with back under her custody.

“We did,” Felicity answers for him, her strained voice snapping the Bellator out of his thoughts. “No chance of pregnancy on my end.”

“What other end is there?” Thea questions. Panic flashes over Felicity and Caitlin’s faces and the archer knows he must pale considerably, judging by Diggle and Tommy’s widening eyes. Fortunately, Thea doesn’t notice any of this and instead pushes on to start singing teasingly, “Ollie and F’licity, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-”

“Thea,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “Quit with the childish playground rhymes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Thea replies. “I’m just relieved they cracked under all that sexual tension, and both of them finally got laid. You’re not the one who had to walk in on her brother sticking his tongue down his mate’s throat -”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope!” Tommy slams his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t need to know. La la la, can’t hear you!”

“Now who’s being childish?” Diggle quirks an eyebrow, taking a graceful sip from his coffee.

“You’ve slept with hundreds of girls, Tommy,” Thea reminds him. “You’ve probably done much worse than just kiss somebody passionately against the wall.”

“Okay, _hundreds_ of girls is a gross exaggeration.”

“I don’t think it is.”

It seems like a good place to break up this particular topic of conversation, and as Oliver notices several members of their party missing from the room, he raises his voice to question curiously, “Where are Laurel, Detective Lance and Lyla?”

Tommy leans back into the couch, shoving Thea’s feet off his lap and ignoring her scowl so he can prop his own feet up onto the coffee table. “Laurel’s gone to meet with the DA and Dr Wells, the head of STAR Labs, to finalise the custody set-up. Detective Lance ran off around six muttering about new Bellator monitoring and tracking systems for the SCPD.”

“And Lyla is down in the library, co-ordinating with the SCPD captain about your return to regular patrols,” Diggle finishes.

“Ah, I’ll need to go and speak with them then,” Caitlin nods. “Oliver, Felicity, meet me in the foyer at around three o’clock, ready to head off. Oliver, you need to drink four glasses of water. You haven’t eaten any heavy foods so you should be fine for the surgery, but don’t eat anything else just in case.”

“Will we need anything else?” Felicity asks.

Caitlin pauses for a moment, biting his lip. She speaks slowly, somewhat hesitantly as she says, “The surgery set-up… it might be similar to the set-up that they had at the, uh, facility where you were turned, Oliver. It’s highly likely that the… medical setting will make you quite anxious. Bringing some blankets from your nest to make you more comfortable might be a good idea.”

Oliver hadn’t even realised that having the tracker chip surgically removed from his spine would result in him being reintroduced into an environment comparable to the facility on the island. He releases a low, concerned sound, tensing, but Felicity reassures him with her own soft purr, her fingers slipping up his spine from where they were tracing indistinct shapes on his lower back to his neck. She squeezes gently, and the Bellator’s legs almost buckle beneath him. It’s the same move Shado used to pull on him when he got antsy at the facility, the same move that brings out the omega in him, causing a submissive instinct to strike his body, forcing him to yield and back down.

“I’ll sort it, Caitlin,” his mate says quietly, offering a small smile.

The doctor nods, and departs from the room. Felicity leads Oliver by the hand to the empty couch opposite Tommy and Thea, and a light compression from his mate on his shoulder encourages the Bellator to collapse down into the cushions. As soon as he’s settled, Felicity sinks down beside him, moving so that she’s seated leaning back on the armrest with her legs over the archer’s lap. Oliver can’t resist reaching forwards and gently squeezing one of her knees, prompting his mate to smile brilliantly at him.

“What surgery was Caitlin talking about?” Thea questions, tilting her head.

“The conservation inserted a satellite tracking chip into Oliver’s spine,” Felicity explains. “Because Oliver’s no longer under their custody, he can have it removed - we don’t want Price following his movements anymore.”

“And why drinking all that water?”

Neither of them have an answer that, sharing confused glances, but luckily Diggle speaks up, saying, “It’s to help detox his bloodstream in preparation for going under anaesthesia.”

Thea and Tommy’s mouths open to form soft ‘Oh!’s, and Oliver relaxes, relieved that he’s not under pressure to give an explanation. Diggle, however, stares directly at him with an almost knowing look, dipping his head and raising an eyebrow. The Bellator goes still, swallowing. He has this distinct feeling wash over him that the bodyguard _knows_ about his pregnancy, just from Caitlin’s short statement about drinking all that water. What’s the relevance of the water drinking to having an ultrasound, he wonders, the significant link that has caused Diggle to catch on to the fact that Oliver’s with child?

“You should come with us,” Oliver says.

An expression of surprise passes over Diggle’s face. “Really?” he asks, just as Felicity exclaims in shock, “He should? Why?” in response.

“Extra security,” Oliver lies. Although it’s not exactly a lie. Diggle coming would provide some additional protection for them all, but that’s not the real reason he would accompany them. If Diggle already knows about the baby, then the Bellator’s going to utilise that. He also has some plans in mind concerning Felicity getting some self-defence training that they will need to discuss at some point. “I can’t protect Felicity and Caitlin whilst unconscious during the surgery. I’d prefer to know my mate is safe at all times, even when I am out for the count.”

“Fair enough,” Felicity replies, narrowing her eyes in an, ‘ _I hope you know what you’re doing_ ’ look. The Bellator just smiles at her, prodding at her through their bond to convey reassurance and certainty.

Oliver perks up as he hears the front doors open and close, quiet voices talking and growing louder as the humans come nearer. Both Lance and Laurel appear, the father passing a red folder full of papers to his daughter, and they both grin at the sight of Felicity wearing the Bellator’s Henley, draped on top of him.

“Looks like at least two of us had a pleasant morning,” Laurel teases.

Tommy stretches out with a yawn. “It was quite nice, Diggle made poached eggs - oh, you’re… you’re talking about Oliver and Felicity. My bad. Yeah, those two fucked and now they’re all post sex dopey with happiness.”

“Tommy, your language,” Thea admonishes him.

“Hey, everybody here knows I’ve said things far worse in the past,” the young Merlyn replies, rolling his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear you two finally got yourselves together - and got together,” Lance says, switching his gaze between the blonde and the Bellator. The gentle smile on his face informs Oliver that he approves, and he deflates in consolation, not even realising that he stiffened when the two Lances walked into the room. He’s relieved that the detective is accepting of his and his mate’s relationship.

“Thank you,” Oliver smiles. He hesitates, wondering if this perhaps might be the wrong time to inform the Lances of Sara’s fate, but he’d prefer to tell them now, as quickly as possible. They’ve been in the dark for long enough already, and the archer can’t stand having to lie and continue actively keeping secrets from them. “Um, Detective, Laurel, would you mind if I spoke to you privately for a moment?”

If either of them are surprised, they hide it well. Lance shrugs and nods, whilst Laurel replies lightly, “Yeah, sure.”

When Tommy and Thea react, starting to get up to give them the room, Oliver waves them down. They were in here first, so they shouldn’t have to move. Oliver stands, motioning to the Lances they should head out into the hallway. As he does so, Felicity catches his hand, shooting a questioning look. He can feel through the bond that she’s silently asking if he wants her to come with them, and he can feel that she knows exactly what this conversation will be about - although not all the details of it. The Bellator squeezes his fingers around hers, tilting his head to indicate that she can stay by his side if she so wishes. He and his mate are operating as a singular unit from now on. There should be nothing he has to hide from her; honesty and communication are going to be key for them from this point onwards, especially if they’re going to raise a child together.

They move into the pantry at Laurel’s suggestion, the detective and his daughter taking seats at the small table in the corner, whilst Oliver and Felicity both lean back against the counter, joint hands dangling between them.

“So… what’s this about?” Lance asks.

It takes a moment for the archer to gather his thoughts, and his courage, enough to begin. “I’ve been keeping information from you both,” the Bellator says sombrely. “I think it’s finally time that I come clean. Keeping these secrets… it’s crushing me, and I don’t have any excuse to withhold this from you any longer. The two of you truly deserve to know.”

Laurel exchanges a serious, yet baffled look with her father, before turning back to him and reassuring, “You can tell us, Oliver. Whatever it is. Can I ask why… why haven’t you told us about this thing before?”

“Because I didn’t have all the facts. And, in all honesty, I was afraid you would be angry,” he admits. “I’m still afraid you’re going to be angry.”

“Does Felicity know about these secrets?” Lance questions.

“She knows some of it,” Oliver says. “But last night, I discovered some more information… information which has changed the reasons why I’m keeping the secrets.” He exhales with a shudder. “Please, just - promise me you’ll hear me out completely before walking out on me, or shouting.”

“We promise,” the two Lances chorus. Their concern is palpable, as is Felicity’s. They can all obviously see how shaken and hesitant Oliver is to reveal these secrets. At this point, however, Oliver has to be entirely honest with all of them - in respect of his friendships and alliances with Laurel and Lance, and in respect of his relationship with his mate.

Oliver centres himself, squaring his shoulders and then announcing, voice solid in his resolve: “Sara didn’t die on the Queen’s Gambit. She survived and she - she was taken into the same facility I was. She was transformed into a Bellator.”

The absolute horror and shock on Lance and Laurel’s faces makes the archer wince, shrinking back, but it’s Felicity’s firm grasp of his hand and the strength and love she pushes through their bond that urges him to continue talking, filling the stunned silence. 

“When I first arrived at the facility, Sara was already there, undergoing the procedures and experiments to be turned into a Bellator. She, along with two other people there, became members of my pack. We lived in the same call together for some time; we looked after one another, cared for each other. Well, that is until they finished their procedures with me.” He glances over at his mate, swallowing. “That’s about as much as I’ve told Felicity. I didn’t want to tell you after I remembered all of that because… I didn’t want to tell you that Sara made it off the Gambit and to the facility, but then have it turn out that she died afterwards, but I hadn’t remembered that yet. The experiments, the procedures, they were _dangerous_. Dozens of people died from them. The treatment we received, the abuse they put us through… it was so difficult to stay alive. But recently - specifically, last night - matters changed.”

At this point, both Lance and Laurel have plastered on impassive, blank expressions. It’s a defence mechanism Oliver recognises; both of them are holding back judgement, and viewing and processing this new information objectively. Lance’s voice is hard and strained as he questions shortly, “How have things changed?”

“The woman who kidnapped Felicity… I can’t disclose her name, but I noticed that she smelt like Sara,” Oliver explains. “She revealed to me that Sara is alive, and under the protection and care of her… organisation. I can confirm that Sara did indeed survive the transformation process. In my dreams last night, I remembered our pack reuniting. Sara is alive, she is healthy and safe, and she is a Bellator.”

There’s a beat of frigid silence. Lance and Laurel both appear astonished by this revelation, but then Laurel’s expression shifts into one of barely restrained rage. “Sara’s alive. My _sister_ is alive. And you’re only telling us this _NOW!?_ ”

Oliver flinches, releasing a low, skittish sound. “Laurel, I’m -”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologise!” she shouts, leaping to her feet and storming towards him. Felicity very quickly slips in front of the Bellator, lips ticking upwards as she growls warningly. Although Laurel stops in place physically, she pursues furiously, “If you found out about this last night, why didn’t you tell us immediately when you got back?”

“I had other issues to worry about, Laurel,” Oliver tries, but even to his ears, it sounds like a weak excuse.

“‘Other things to worry about’!? This is my _sister_ being _alive_! My sister, who you _killed_ by luring onto that boat!” Laurel shrieks. Oliver instantly hunches in on himself, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. No, that wasn’t him, that was Oliver Queen, and he is not that person anymore. “What could _possibly_ be more important than that? Are you telling me that _sex_ with your girlfriend of barely a few days was more important than -!?”

“Laurel,” Lance snaps harshly, and finally, Laurel lapses into silence, seething quietly. Lance’s expression is frosty when he turns back to the Bellator, but Oliver doesn’t see anger in his eyes, only confliction and bemusement. “Oliver, I’m - I’m not going to demand reasons for why you didn’t tell us,” he says hoarsely. “Yes, I’m upset by it, but - you’re a good man, and from what I understand from what you’ve said, you’ve thought about this a lot. You - you didn’t want to give Laurel and I false hope. I appreciate that. There was a lot of shit going down last night, so I’m not angry you didn’t tell us as soon as you walked in through the doors. Thank you for telling us now.” He shakes his head slowly. “But… But I think both of us are gonna need some time to process this. Time - time away from _you_. We’ll continue to support you and help out with legal proceedings but personally - I think we’re just gonna need some space.”

“That’s understandable,” Oliver whispers. The tense knot in his chest releases; Laurel may be furious now, but she will eventually calm down. At least they don’t completely hate him.

“Is there any way for us to get in touch with this woman?” Lance asks. “I dunno, a - a phone number or something we can contact her by?”

“I don’t think the organisation she operates with uses cell phones, Detective,” Oliver responds apologetically. “She only agreed to me disclosing this information about Sara being alive to you and Laurel under the conditions that I didn’t reveal too much about her and her organisation.” He pauses, before adding somewhat warily, “She did say that I will probably see her again soon. I asked her to pass on a message to Sara about being welcome in Starling and us missing her.”

Laurel stands and storms off, slamming the door shut behind her. Lance grimaces, and with one last glance towards Oliver, that is filled with caution and a hint of mistrust, he rises and heads off after his overwrought daughter. As the door swings shut behind the detective, Oliver allows himself to unwind. Felicity’s gentle, reassuring strokes down his arms help ease the tension so that his shoulders, which have risen up towards his ears, sink back down into a resting position. With a distressed whimper, the Bellator whips around and wraps himself around his mate, burying his head into Felicity’s neck so he can inhale her scent with every stuttered breath. His mate soothes him with calm, soft chitters, rubbing his back.

“That was an incredibly brave thing you did, Oliver,” she whispers, dotting his face with affectionate kisses. He mewls in response, chasing her lips with his own until they meet in a light, tender kiss, foreheads bumping together. “I’m proud of you,” his mate hums when she breaks away, one of her hands trailing up her back to scratch at the nape of his neck.

“Do you think they’ll forgive me?” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“From what I gather, Lance understands why you kept it from them. Laurel might be harder to convince, but she’ll eventually come around and realise you were in the right. We just need to give them time, as Lance said.” She shakes her head, amazed. “I just can’t believe that Sara is alive. I mean, we knew it was a possibility, but this completely changes the game. Do you think if she’s alive, Shado and Slade could be?”

“I don’t know. I hope so,” Oliver sighs. “They were there in my dream last night, so I know they survived the procedures. Slade was acting off towards me, but other than that, they all seemed okay.” He frowns. “I forgot to mention it this morning, but in the memory I was starting to get prenatal depression back at the facility.”

“You think you might get it again?” Felicity questions, concerned.

“I’m not sure. There’s a likelihood that I could.”

Felicity nods. “When somebody has prenatal depression with one baby, there’s quite a fair chance they’ll develop it again with another child. We should mention it to Caitlin. She might be able to put you on some sort of anti-depression meds.”

The rest of the morning they spend just enjoying each other’s company. It turns out that Oliver knows less about Felicity’s personal life than he cares to admit, so whilst he partakes in some archery practice in the gardens, Felicity sits leaning back against a tree that’s nearby and tells him about her childhood, her family and her job. He learns that her mother, Donna Smoak, raised her in Vegas, and then she studied Computer Science and Cybersecurity at MIT, which is a prestigious American technology university, to graduate early. She moved away from Vegas to start her job at Queen Consolidated in the IT department, despite getting offers from Microsoft, Apple and other technology companies, because she liked the city and was drawn to it. With every fact that Felicity shares with the Bellator, Oliver feels as if he knows her more, and as if he’s known her for years already. From what Felicity tells him about her mother’s personality, he also starts to wonder how it is that Donna Smoak hasn’t popped around to Starling yet, especially as her daughter is beginning to be featured more in the media because of her involvement with Oliver.

By the time three o’clock arrives, Felicity has eaten a light lunch and Oliver has managed, although he struggled, to drink all the glasses of water that Caitlin ordered him to. He feels uncomfortably full, and he anticipates his bladder will be screaming at him in a few hours, but hopefully the ultrasound won’t take that long. Caitlin and Diggle both meet them by the front doors; if the doctor is surprised that the bodyguard will be joining them, she doesn’t show it. It turns out that Diggle has already put together a bag for Oliver when they arrive in the foyer - he’s gathered a lot of their nest blankets and a pillow or two, and he tucks the archer’s bow and his half full quiver into the duffle once the Bellator passes them over. It unsettles and annoys Oliver that the bodyguard intruded his and Felicity’s closet nest, as he knows that Diggle’s scent will now hang in the air there to greet them when they arrive back in the evening. However, Diggle’s actions do speed up the process of getting out of the house, so when they hop into a black Mercedes, they’re on schedule to get to the STAR Labs facility. 

A friendly looking male greets them at the doors, his smile wide and infectious, so that Oliver finds his own lips ticking upwards in a slightly grin. He can already tell by the man’s happy aura and soft pinewood scent that the human is a kind one, and will be their ally. He introduces himself as Doctor Rhodes and begins leading them through the facility, walking up front with Caitlin as they begin to discuss medical things; Oliver listens in for barely thirty seconds before he tunes out, uninterested, as it all sounds like a different language to him.

“So I’m guessing you figured it out,” Felicity says, turning to Diggle with a frown. “How?”

“One of the officers in my squadron got pregnant whilst I was working with the Special Forces,” the male explains. “As her SO, I had to attend all her ultrasounds with her. They always made her drink an obscene amount of water beforehand so that they got a clearer picture of the baby. Connecting that, with the fact that the conservation pumped Oliver full of fertility and pregnancy hormones? Kind of made it obvious. Congratulations to both of you.”

“You’re not weirded out? Males aren’t… normally the ones carrying the offspring in your species,” the Bellator says.

“I mean, it _is_ strange,” Diggle admits. “But you’re not _our_ species. You’re a _homo bellator custos_ , not a human. It’s not normal for humans, but it’s normal for yours. It’s your biology.”

“You won’t tell anybody else?” Oliver asks nervously. It doesn’t escape him that both Diggle and Lyla work together in security and therefore speak often; their past relationship probably means they can read each other well, and they tell each other almost everything. He doesn’t want Lyla knowing about the baby until he’s absolutely sure he can trust her, and at the moment, she needs to prove herself before she gains that respect.

Diggle shakes his head. “Of course not. It’s your kid, you two should tell everybody when you’re ready to. I thought I’d just come along for the moral support, and for the security. I’m meant to be your bodyguard, and if I’m going to be protecting you two - I’ll be protecting this kid of yours as well.”

“Thanks,” Oliver exhales in relief. “That means a lot.”

“Sure hope one thing though.”

“What?”

“If I’m coming to all these ultrasounds and prenatal check-ups, I hope to hell I’m up for consideration for godfather.”

Both he and Felicity laugh, and Oliver looks between them wildly, not really understanding. Must be human joke. They reach the end of a corridor, Caitlin opening up the door for them, to lead into a large, spacious room. The walls are painted a calming pastel blue, and there’s a bed in the middle up against the wall, lined with pillows and blankets so that it appears like a nest. Dr Rhodes says he’s going to continue prepping for the surgery, and for Caitlin to call him in once they’re finished up.

“Alright, Oliver,” Caitlin says, slipping into doctor mode but continuing to sound warm and unthreatening. “I’ll take a few blood samples first, take your height, weight and waist circumference and then we’ll get the ultrasound out and take a look at your baby, okay? Shirt off - Felicity, can you grab a blanket for him if he gets cold? Thanks.”

The blood draw takes only a few minutes, and Oliver hums under his breath, watching Felicity and Diggle carefully as the needle is slipped in and then out of his arm, samples collected. The weighing and measuring takes another minute, and the Bellator decides on observing his mate throughout this. Felicity is biting her lip and tapping her feet on the ground nervously, and Oliver has to confess that he feels a little bit anxious as well, although his excitement is overruling that. They’re going to see their baby. This is going to be amazing.

“Hop up here.” Caitlin pats the bed. Diggle has already placed all of the blankets and pillows taken from his and Felicity’s closet nest onto it. “Did you drink all the water I told you to?”

“Yes, and my bladder dislikes you because of it,” Oliver says honestly, sitting down onto the bed and swinging his legs up. He reaches out for Felicity’s hand, only lying down with a sigh when his mate entwines her fingers with his own, grasping them lightly. “How does this work?”

“I’m going to put some of this gel on your lower abdomen and then I’m going to use the ultrasound to locate the fetus to try and see how old it approximately is. All you have to do is lie back and stay still.” As Caitlin squeezes a reasonable amount of blue, jelly-like liquid onto Oliver’s stomach, he squirms when he realises it’s not cold, but lukewarm, and the sensation of it is rather strange. Caitlin begins spreading it with a wand like instrument, and the Bellator releases a low, uncertain sound. “Okay, let’s find that baby of yours.”

The doctor has the screen turned towards her, staring at it intensely as she moves the wand about over Oliver’s stomach. The Bellator watches her facial expressions worriedly. After half a minute or so of silence, a scared, anxious noise rips from Oliver’s throat, and he whips his head around to glance at Felicity, trilling concernedly. His mate is schooling a calm, straight expression, but he can sense her growing distress through their bond. Is something wrong? Can Caitlin not find the baby?

Diggle, who is standing with his arms crossed behind the doctor and also watching the screen, lifts his gaze from it when he hears Oliver’s agitated sounds. “Hey, calm down, you two. Everything’s fine,” he reassures. “Caitlin is trying to get a clearer picture.”

“Yep, your baby’s already honing those Bellator evasion tactics,” the doctor confirms with a grin. “But I think I’ve managed to pin them down. Looks like you’re further along than I thought, Oliver. You were already pregnant when the conservation gave you those injections, but too early into the pregnancy for them to tell. The fetus looks to be around eleven weeks old by human standards, so you’re just over seven weeks along.”

Oliver feels as if an invisible hand is clenching around his heart, and takes a stuttering breath. It was a close call then, the conservation finding out about his baby. No doubt Price would have used that knowledge to take the Bellator into permanent conservation custody, and Oliver would have spent the pregnancy in an enclosure, not dissimilar to the one of the island facility. He shudders just thinking about it. Felicity must be thinking the exact same thing, because she shivers beside him, her grip on his hand tightening and waves of upset drifting between their mate bond.

Caitlin’s eyes are shining with happiness, however, as she questions, “Are you two ready to take look at your baby?”

Both of them nod, swallowing nervously.

Slowly, the doctor turns the screen around with a massive grin on her face. Oliver feels the world fall away from him as his gaze latches onto the picture there, freezing as he eyes widened in wonder. In the midst of the black static is the tiny, unmistakable white form of a baby. It’s very small, but has a distinct head and four limbs, with tiny fingers and toes. He wouldn’t go as far to say that it’s wiggling, but its little arms and legs are waving around slightly.

He feels tears spring to his eyes and Felicity whispers, “Oh my god,” beside him, hand over her mouth.

That’s their baby.

“That’s our baby,” Oliver murmurs, voice strained and choked up. He heaves a sob of joy, repeating, “Felicity, _that’s our baby._ ”

Both Diggle and Caitlin chuckle at their reactions, and the doctor begins pointing out all the different limbs as she moves the wand about to change the angle the image is presented at, although they can already sort of see them. It is kind of reassuring though to know that his child has two legs, Oliver muses, because the fetus is curled up and - his tears of spill over as he realises that his child is _sucking its thumb_. Everything else suddenly doesn’t matter – the conservation, his freedom, learning human customs – the most important thing to him now is this baby. Protective feelings flare up inside of him. He’ll protect this child even if it results in his death.

“It looks to be very healthy,” Caitlin tells them quietly, still smiling at the wonder and amazement on their faces. “The baby’s about the size of a plum right now, I’d say. Very energetic, just like its dad.”

“Can you feel that?” Felicity asks the Bellator dazedly, watching as their child rolls about, legs kicking.

Oliver shakes his head, still shocked silent.

“To be honest, I’m amazed you haven’t been feeling any usual pregnancy symptoms by this point,” Caitlin says. “Although you have been sick lately and haven’t been that active, so the fatigue wouldn’t have been hitting you as hard. Be prepared to start making more frequent bathroom breaks though. Morning sickness might strike you soon, as well as cravings. Your Bellator pregnancy habits are already coming through, with the nesting behaviour and protectiveness, so we’ll have to be careful and consider some safety measures for you out in the field. You’ll probably develop an aversion to heights, which could make your usual patrols more difficult.”

The Bellator nods absentmindedly, but his entranced gaze is still glued to the screen. That’s his baby, his and Felicity’s child, and that’s _inside of him_. “It’s so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Can - can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“Not yet,” Caitlin answered apologetically, but her elation is evident as she adds, “But I might have something even better for you.”

“What?” Felicity asks.

She raises a finger to ask for a minute, and then plugs a pair of headphones into the machine, working the dials of it until she lets out a gleeful laugh, eyes lighting up. Sitting down in her own chair, she hands the headphones over to Diggle, whose expression transforms into one of astonishment and delight. Then, with an excited grin at both Oliver and Felicity, Caitlin unplugs the headphones.

A fast, steady thudding sound echoes through the room.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” Caitlin informs them.

If Oliver wasn’t crying from exultation before, he is now. He’s listening to his child’s heartbeat, and it sounds so _strong_ that he doesn’t know what to say; he’s so absolutely stunned, beaming with happiness. Felicity leans over, crying herself, to press kisses all over his cheeks and face, as if thanking him for giving her this experience.

“You’re two lucky parents,” Diggle says, still grinning. “That’s one incredible, strong baby you’ve got there.”

“Thank you,” Oliver manages to choke out, turning to the doctor. “Caitlin, thank you, _so much_.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she smiles. “I’m overjoyed for you, and I’m so happy I was allowed to share this moment with you.”

“Me too,” Diggle agrees.

Felicity wipes her tears from her cheeks, murmuring, “God, I could get addicted looking and listening to that.”

“I can take some sonogram pictures for you,” Caitlin offers. “It’ll only be another five days before we take another scan, but if you want some photos of the baby for you to -”

“Yes,” Oliver hurries to say, going back to staring at the image of the wriggling, tiny fetus that is a light in the darkness on the monitor, that’s _his child_. “Yes, _please_ , yes.”

“I’ll print some out for you,” the doctor says. “And then, I’m afraid, I’m going to have to switch the sonogram off, and get you prepped for surgery, Oliver.”

He’s riding on the high of being able to see his baby and hear it’s heartbeat - nothing can bring him down from that, even a surgery to remove the tracker chip. “Caitlin, when I say thank you, I - I really mean it. This was _remarkable_. I honestly can’t thank you enough. I - I don’t know how I could possibly repay you for this.”

“You can repay me by keeping yourself and that child safe and healthy,” Caitlin answers. “And by letting Felicity and the rest of us look after you both.”

He nods, emitting a sad, disappointed sound when the doctor switches the screen off. Felicity copies the sound, frowning and almost glaring at Caitlin, but the doctor simply raises an eyebrow at them both, moving away to grab tissues so Oliver can wipe the gunky blue gel off his stomach. Whilst Caitlin goes off briefly to get Dr Rhodes back in the room, Oliver relieves himself in the bathroom to the side, finally feeling as if his bladder isn’t going to explode after all that water he drank, and he changes into a weird, flimsy blue gown that he’s meant to wear during the operation. Felicity must sense his growing anxiety, because she plasters herself to his side and purrs quietly, calming him. Diggle moves a load of equipment gurneys into place near the bed per Caitlin’s instructions, and the Bellator purposely angles himself away from them so he doesn’t have to catch the glint of the needles of scalpels lying on them.

“Alright, Oliver,” Dr Rhodes says cheerfully as he enters the room, Caitlin just behind him. “Dr Snow will administer the anaesthetic and then I’ll get to work on removing that tracker chip.” He turns to Felicity and Diggle, saying, “Unfortunately, you two won’t be able to stay in the room during the surgery, but you can wait just outside. I have some lovely wildlife magazines I can lend you.”

“I… think we’ll be fine,” Diggle replies. “Felicity, I’ll meet you outside in a minute, okay?”

She nods, and grasps both of Oliver’s hands tightly as the Bellator has his IV and heart monitor fitted. Making a tense, skittish rumble, Oliver lances upwards to press one last kiss to Felicity’s lips, passionate and loving as he sends ripples of his affection for her through their bond. She responds back to him with her own purr.

“Alright, Oliver, I’m going to inject the anaesthetic into your IV now. It’s going to feel like being dragged down into sleep. I want you to count down from ten.”

He nods, and as Caitlin plunges the liquid into the IV line, he begins, “Ten… nine… eight…” His vision begins swimming, head becoming heavy and fuzzy. “...Sev… seven… Sss… Sssi -”

“Six,” Felicity completes for him. As his eyes flutter shut, he fixes his unsteady gaze onto his mate, taking comfort in her presence, even as his hands start to become lax within her grasp. “Five.”

“... four…”

And he slips over the verge into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos and comment!
> 
> Tumbr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar
> 
> **Game for the comments this week:** What pregnancy symptoms do you think Oliver might possibly get, and how do you think the pregnancy is going to affect Oliver and Felicity's relationship?


	30. The Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, the pack reuniting results in issues for Oliver. In the present, Oliver awakes from his operation and difficult conversations are had with Caitlin. The Bellator also makes an important decision concerning his relationship with Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from my vacation, and ready to post!
> 
> Seriously, this chapter was so long, I decided to split it into two. The next chapter will hopefully be posted soon, also this week.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Thank you once again for all your incredible support!
> 
> Game for the comments of the chapter: How do you think Oliver's behaviour towards Felicity will change now, with his decision at the end of the chapter?
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** : Discussion of a surgery. Discussion and physical description of male pregnancy. Male pregnancy. Discussion of mental health and mental health medication.

* * *

* * *

_Over the next week, Oliver simultaneously got better and worse, if that was somehow possible, after being reunited with his pack._

_He got better because Shado and Sara insisted on him looking after himself, eating properly, and getting up and about. They forced him to stop moping about and languishing in his depression; he was pregnant, and before he could worry about his child’s future, he had to worry about himself. The baby wouldn’t survive if Oliver didn’t care for his own body._

_Both Shado and Sara seemed to have slipped into sisterly roles, protective instincts rearing up to make sure that Oliver, in his vulnerable, pregnant state, stayed healthy. So in a physical respect, Oliver’s health massively improved._

_Mentally, however, was another story entirely. Shado and Sara managed to bring him mostly out of his depression, but that grim, empty feeling remained, because all was not completely harmonious within the pack._

_Slade avoided Oliver as if he was the plague. The older man barely ever stepped within ten feet of the younger, eyeing him with glittering, cold eyes. It was clear by his body language and scent that Slade was wary of Oliver because he couldn’t identify him as distinctly alpha or omega. The fact that Slade was keeping this distance between them, when Oliver was so desperate for kind bodily contact and affection, hurt. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with Slade in their newly built pack shelter, but the older man refused to have anything to do with him._

_Then, there was Barry. The new omega._

_He was younger than Oliver, and much more naive and clumsy than he could have predicted. The omega was hesitant to approach Oliver, so he only learnt what he could about the omega from asking Shado and Sara questions, when they had their cuddle sessions in the evenings. Cuddling apparently released serotonin, which would help the baby’s development. Barry had been kidnapped from Central City and transported to the island, sold to the facility; it confirmed for Oliver that this was, in fact, an international operation, with a lot of funding behind it._

_After the pack had successfully been transformed into_ homo bellator custos, _they’d been placed into an enclosure together, with Barry being dumped in there with them. Slade, the alpha of the group, had very quickly adopted both Sara and Barry as his omegas, his instincts to protect his pack overwhelming. They’d started teaching Barry about life on the island, and due to the younger man’s high intelligence, he’d picked up survival skills quite easily._

_Oliver despised admitting it, but he was jealous of Barry. Slade, Shado and Sara doted over him in a way that they never did, and never had, with Oliver. The fact that they’d accepted him into the pack so quickly as their omega didn’t escape Oliver, and he found himself wondering whether or not he’d been replaced. That was certainly what it felt like._

_Barry was useful to the pack - he helped construct their shelter, he gathered leaves and branches to make baskets and bedding, and he aided Shado in making a new water collection system. Oliver felt dumb and useless compared to the younger omega. He felt like dead weight. Due to his depression and his pregnancy, Shado and Sara had insisted on him remaining in the shelter for most of the day to rest. As a result of that, however, he wasn’t doing anything to help out the pack._

_The reason he felt like dead weight was because they were forcing him to actually BE dead weight._

_Oliver woke up one morning shivering, the cold biting into his fingers and toes. Usually, Shado and Sara would curl up around him at night to keep him warm, but they were strangely absent this morning. Huffing, Oliver heaved himself to his feet unsteadily, bracing himself with one hand against a tree trunk; his other arm he kept securely wrapped around his stomach._

_He was beginning to bloat, except the bump was hard to the touch. The baby was growing. Glancing around confusedly, Oliver released a soft call to his other pack members, but there was no response._

_Normally, Shado and Sara would wake him up in the mornings and take him down to the clear open space at the front of the enclosure, near the gates they’d entered the space through. Oliver’s keeper, and the other group of keepers which presumably were in charge of the other pack members, now kept them to a firm feeding and sleeping schedule; Shado informed him it was probably to provide regulation to Oliver’s life, as he needed to be as relaxed as possible whilst he was carrying the child._

_Usually, they got there early so that they could arrive in the clearing before the keeper and Ivo did, and prepare Oliver mentally for his daily weighing, health check and prenatal vitamins. The two females always accompanied him down there, often even holding his hands and chuffing comfortingly to him if he became agitated._

_The fact that the two females were gone, their scents lingering faintly in the air of the shelter, but distinctly a few hours stale, put Oliver on the alert._

_He ducked out of the shelter with a grunt, looking around searchingly. His heart sunk at the sight before him. Slade, Shado and Sara were hunched in a circle around Barry, teaching him how to descale and gut a fish. Where they’d found the fish, Oliver had no clue - he’d never seen any fish in the small freshwater drinking pool in the enclosure. Maybe the keeper had put some in there recently, to see if they could catch them as a mental exercise._

_“Sara? Shado?” Oliver called out, voice small and hesitant. “Um. Are we heading down for my health check and breakfast, or -”_

_“Busy at the moment,” Slade interrupted, grunting. He very purposely shifted, placing his back to Oliver and blocking him from the group. “We’re teaching the kid how to prepare a fish.”_

_Oliver swallowed. “I used to be the kid,” he whispered. So now, Barry was not only stealing his pack’s attention, but he was also stealing his nickname?_

_“We’ll be down soon, Oliver,” Shado said absentmindedly, watching the younger omega eagerly as he used a sharpened rock to scrape the scales off the fish. “Yes, well done,_ Xiǎoxióng. _Now you must gut it and cut the head off.”_

_It wasn’t exactly the nickname that Shado gave Oliver, but it was close enough. Oliver whimpered, tears springing to his eyes. He got emotional so easily these days about trivial things, but this - this was not trivial. He was getting upset because he was being replaced in his pack by a younger, smarter, more useful person, and his pack were treating him as if he was a burden to them._

_Oliver’s emotional defence mechanism kicked in; numbness washed over him as he began to dissociate, separating his body from his thoughts and emotions, so he felt as he was just looking observing them outside of reality, unaffected by this wall. “Okay,” he replied flatly. “See you later.”_

_He trudged through the vegetation, dragging feet kicking at the ferns. Oliver kept his expression carefully schooled as he approached the gates, settling down cross legged on the ground a few feet from the feeding area. He stared blankly ahead, attempting to focus his gaze on the wire mesh of the enclosure walls and several plants around him, but every time his vision went blurry and out of focus. He felt as if he was floating. It was pleasant and extremely alarming at the same time._

_A pair of fingers snapped in front of his face. Oliver raised his head and stared up at his keeper vacantly. His fingers twitched, hands half trembling in his lap, but because all of those writhing, annoying emotions locked away in his mind to protect him from being emotionally hurt, Oliver didn’t care about reacting. The keeper regarded him with a strange expression when Oliver didn’t react, snapping his fingers again._

_When he didn’t flinch, just blinking up at him, the keeper turned around and hollered: “Ivo, get over here! I think 141’s having some sort of episode!”_

_Ivo swam into Oliver’s vision. He clicked his fingers, and prodded Oliver gently on the shoulder, and when that didn’t result in any reaction, the doctor asked softly, “Oliver? Can you hear me?”_

_It took a moment for the question to register, but when it did, Oliver jerked his head up ever so slightly in a nod, answering quietly, “Yeah.”_

_The keeper started in a threatening, warning voice, “Ivo…” but the doctor cut him off, countering quickly with, “I need him to talk so I can work out what’s wrong. He’s dissociating because something’s happened to upset him. Oliver, what happened?”_

_He just bowed his head, frowning as he hummed._

_“Is it to do with the baby?”_

_“...No.”_

_“Are you injured?”_

_“No.”_

_“Is it something to do with the pack?”_

_There was a brief pause, and then Oliver managed to nod, a whimper escaping his lips._

_“See, I knew bringing in those mongrels would be a bad idea!” the keeper hissed._

_“141’s physical health and his depression have improved drastically since the pack were placed into this enclosure with him,” Ivo responded, voice sharp. “We can’t ignore or deny the help they’re giving him. Oliver, did they do something to hurt you? Did Slade reject you? We’ve seen through the cameras that he’s been cold and distant lately.”_

_Oliver refused to answer, fiddling with his hands in his lap and letting out a low, distraught sound. He didn’t respond verbally to any other questions, so Ivo just decided to stop asking, setting up the equipment for the morning check-up. Oliver did everything the doctor asked, not even protesting or flinching when a sample of blood was taken, and the doctor carefully examined the bump of his stomach, murmuring about getting a scan done soon._

_The keeper seemed confused and also worried about Oliver’s strange behaviour; he didn’t give him the usual backhand across the face when Oliver was reluctant to take his food, only pressing an apple and orange into his hands insistently. To the Bellator’s shock, the keeper even tried a hand at some awkward comfort, scraping his fingers through Oliver’s hair and scratching reasonably gently. It crossed his mind that the only reason the keeper was concerned about him was due to him carrying the baby, but Oliver was yearning for touch, so despite how terrified and uncomfortable it made him, he leant into the hand, mewling in distress._

_“Off you go,” Ivo said, passing him the prenatal vitamin tablet and then patting his shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll come and check in on you this evening.”_

* * *

Oliver's awakening from unconsciousness is the most unpleasant it's ever been. It feels as if he's being dragged and yanked back and forth over red hot, sharpened stones, every inch of him afire and aching terribly. His head feels as if it's been bashed in repeatedly with a boulder, so heavy that his neck can barely support it. Even in his half-awake state, it's disconcerting and horrible, and he releases a strangled groan of pain and discomfort, trying to squirm but finding his muscles unresponsive.

"He's waking up," he faintly hears Caitlin say, although everything sounds as if it's underwater, and barely recognisable as words. "John, grab the bucket and water jug. Felicity, you might back to scoot your chair back a little bit - coming up from anaesthetic is not very nice, and he'll probably throw up from nausea considering the amount I had to use on him to put him under fully."

Oliver shifts minutely and immediately whines at the flare of agony it causes. Every one of his limbs is tingling like he's got pins and needles. There's light pressure on his right hand and he follows the sensation with half lidded, blurry eyes to see his mate gently massaging his palm with her thumbs. Felicity is trying to calm him down by chittering gently, but for once, the sounds don't comfort him.

The Bellator's gut curls with nausea, intestines twisting painfully inside of him, and Oliver lunges sideways to empty the contents of his stomachs. Luckily, Diggle jumps forwards just in time to shove a bucket underneath his face, and the vomit splatters into that instead of onto the floor. A keening moan escapes his parched throat as he falls back onto the hospital bed, clutching his stomach and curling up.

Caitlin, however, stops him from rolling into a ball, gently taking hold of his arms and legs so that he's lying on his front, head cushioned in a pillow. Felicity's fingertips trail soothing circles into his hip and it helps slightly, but not very much.

"Hey, take it easy," she says quietly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"Ngggguuh," he responds dazedly. " _Huuuurts_."

Most of the pain wracking his body is coming from an upper point on his spine, near his neck. The Bellator's attempts to twist around and dab his fingers at the point cautiously, but Caitlin catches his wrist and stops him with a stern look.

"Wound's been stitched, but will take a few days to heal, so no touching," she admonishes lightly. "Don't rip the dressing and bandage off."

"Out?" he manages to choke, the single word raspy. He can't seem to get the full sentence, asking whether or not the surgery was successful in getting out the conservation tracker chip out.

Felicity, however, doesn't need spoken word to understand what his question is, their nonverbal form of communication through their mate bond strong and hardy, despite the fuzziness in the Bellator's brain. "Dr Rhodes extracted the chip with no difficulties, Oliver. It's out."

He sighs in relief, finally relaxing. The relief is fleeting, however, as he ends up ducking over to throw up into the bucket again due to a wave of nausea. Felicity, Diggle and Caitlin all make sympathetic noises, Diggle replacing the now half full bucket with a new one and leaving to remove and wash out the other.

"I also took the liberty of taking a small sample of amniotic fluid for genetic testing whilst you were under sedation, Oliver," Caitlin informs him. "But we can talk about the results of that later."

Panic flares and he croaks, "Bad?"

"No, no, no," the doctor immediately reassures. "The results are fine. Great, even. I just thought we might wait until you've rested and recovered for a few hours, and can talk coherently, until we discuss them."

The door opens then, and Oliver tries to snap his head to the side and growl threateningly, but there's so much pain in his neck that the snarl comes out as more of a wail. Caitlin hushes him gently whilst Felicity clambers up onto the bed to sit beside him, purring softly as she strokes up and down his arm. Dr Rhodes appears, standing in the doorway for a second as he flips through a chart. As he closes it, a massive grin spreads across his face when he walks back towards the group. Is this human just somehow permanently happy?

"Ah, good, my patient is awake!" He says. "Oliver, your surgery went spectacularly, no complications at all. Took just under two hours. There'll be a very small scar on the back of your neck, but there hopefully should be no other long-lasting side effects. Just take it easy over the next week or so and you should be back to normal soon." He holds up a small sample bottle, shaking it. Oliver frowns as it rattles. "Also brought along the little bugger you had removed just in case you wanted to destroy it in some random dramatic fashion as a final middle finger to the conservation." Diggle offers to take it, and when Dr Rhodes hands it over, the bodyguard slips it into his pocket. "Let me just give you a quick check over, some anti-nausea medication and then I'll get out of your hair. Dr Snow is going to take over your medical treatment at this point. It was very nice meeting and working with you - well, working with your spine," the human laughs at his own joke.

The check up takes just under ten minutes, and at the end of it, Dr Rhodes administers some anti-nausea meds and a light sedative to help Oliver fall back to sleep and recover further from the general anaesthetic. Although the hospital bed is small, Felicity manages to wiggle in beside him, curling into the Bellator's side.

With his mate resting on top of him, her weight reassuring in the fact that it's a certainty that she's there, Oliver slips off briefly to sleep. Due to the sedative, it's dreamless and restful, probably the most sleep he's been able to get uninterrupted by night terrors since he first arrived in Starling. Maybe he should speak to Caitlin about getting sleeping aids.

When he wakes up again, he feels much better than before. His head is clearer, most of the fuzziness gone, and that horrible nausea from earlier has gone. Thank heavens for his fast metabolism and accelerated healing factor; he wouldn't have been able to stand another few hours of that terrible post-anaesthetic haze.

It's early evening now and hunger pits at the bottom of Oliver's stomach, and once Caitlin has checked to make sure he'll be able to down liquids and some solids without throwing them back up, Felicity fetches him some orange juice. He takes tentative sips of it, and watches the IV in his arm with beady eyes, as the doctor has said he can head back to the mansion as soon as he finishes this IV bag.

Diggle and his mate help the Bellator to move off the bed to a more comfortable couch. He winces with every movement that jolts his neck, and subsequently the wound there, but the pain isn't that bad - nothing compared to the agony he's experienced in the past.

"Genetic testing," he immediately brings up, when Caitlin returns from signing him out with Dr Rhodes. "The sample. What did you find?"

Caitlin raises an eyebrow and turns to Felicity, commenting teasingly, "Hasn't got much patience, this one."

Except Felicity seems just as anxious to hear the results as Oliver, shaking her head and saying softly, "Cait, please."

"You can both relax," Caitlin responds with a smile. She settles down into a chair in front of them after picking up a very thin file from the counter, motioning Diggle over to join them. As soon as all four of them are seated, she opens the file. "Your baby came back clear of all the hereditary diseases and viruses we test for. Dr Rhodes and I were quite surprised to see that at this stage of development, mutations have already occurred so that the baby is no longer a clone of Oliver. There's variation in the DNA now, and also, it's not completely Oliver's DNA that the baby's genome is presenting."

Oliver inhales sharply, holding his breath. He can sense Felicity doing the same beside him. Tension is high, both of them nervous and concerned - if not all of the baby's DNA is Oliver's, it means that another's genetic material has been absorbed and spliced in - and that's either going to be Laurel's DNA, forcefully and unknowingly injected into the Bellator, or it'll be Felicity's DNA, emergency transfused as soon as she and Oliver were confirmed as mate's and more comparable, to try and diffuse the conservation's dirty work.

Caitlin glances between the two of them, grin widening on her face as she finally reveals, "There are short sections of Felicity's DNA integrated into the baby's genome. Congrats, you two, this baby is yours - both of yours, biologically. There's no hint of Laurel's DNA anywhere. Our blood transfusion worked and my theory about the baby being more accepting of a mate's genetic material was correct."

"Oh, thank god," Felicity bursts out in relief.

Oliver clutches onto her hand, tension leaking out of his shoulders as he is finally able or relax, sinking back into the cushions and pressing up against his mate's side with the purr. "OUR baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss into her neck with a possessive growl. "Actually, properly, _OUR_ baby."

"Just so you know, because of the testing, I can now confirm to you what the sex of the baby is," the doctor says. "Would you like to know?"

"Yes," Felicity replies, at the same time that Oliver adamantly answers, " _No_."

His mate turns to him, looking hurt. "No? Really? You want it to be a surprise?"

The Bellator averts his eyes. This will be hard to voice aloud, force from his heart, but he knows it needs to be said, and he needs to explain. He has complete trust in Felicity and everybody else in the room. "I can't remember whether or not the scientists at the facility let me know the sex of my first child early. I - I got some prenatal depression back then. I'd rather not know the sex of this baby, because at least if I remember they didn't tell me, I won't have much to be upset about - but if I remember that they DID tell me, I don't want to have to know that... Well, if I'm having a girl now, and I had a girl five years ago, the similarities might..."

"They might cause you to slip back into prenatal depression," Caitlin finishes for him, her tone gentle.

"I don't want to feel like I did with that baby with this one," he whispers. "Especially knowing that I - I lost the first one."

"Of course we don't have to know," Felicity soothes, rubbing his back soothingly. "I just thought it would help us prepare better if we knew the sex, but if you're worried about your mental state - of course, we don't have to know, Oliver."

He exhales, smiling sadly. "Thank you."

"If you change your mind and ever want to know before that little one's birthday arrives, just ask me. I'll happily tell you."

"Wait, so you know?" Diggle questions. At Caitlin's raised eyebrow and nod, he questions, "So as the future godfather, do I get to know?"

"If you can understand any of the diagrams within the file, you do," the doctor laughs.

Dig grabs it and skims his eyes over it eagerly. Within three seconds, he's handing it back. "Yeah, no thanks. That just looks like a whole load of numbers and squiggly lines to me."

"So that's the genetic testing side finished," Caitlin says, placing the file aside. "Which brings me to something else. I noticed this when I did a very quick sonogram after the surgery ended, to check on the baby. It's rather remarkable actually, and I've never seen this happen before. Guys, the baby responds physiologically to Felicity's presence."

Blinking at her, the Bellator responds, puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Obviously, since Felicity was present at all times during the first ultrasound, there wasn't anything I could notice that was out of the ordinary," Caitlin continues. "But during the second one, Felicity was sitting in the waiting room -" she turns to the blonde, eyes piercing, "And half way through it, you left to go to grab your tablet. You actually left the building to get it from the car."

Felicity seems to be on the verge of realisation, her eyes widening as she swallows. "What happened?"

"The baby stopped moving, and its heartbeat fluttered." Horror washes over Oliver, and Felicity claps her hand to her mouth to stifle a frightened sob. Caitlin quickly carried on, trying to reassure them, "Nothing dangerous, don't worry. Felicity was away for only around twenty minutes, and the baby's movement and heartbeat picked up as soon as she came back. I doubt separation like that, even for a much longer time period and over a longer distance, would harm the baby at all. It was just something interesting that I noticed. The baby's obviously tuned into the fact that Felicity is one of its parents and due to the mate bond between you two, the baby's beginning to psychically bond with you both as well."

"How do we know that separation won't hurt the baby though?" Oliver questions worriedly.

"We don't," Caitlin says apologetically. "Which is why, I think, with both of your consent, we'll have to do a bit of testing. Whilst the baby's this early in its development, any psychic strain won't harm it, but as it gets older and its brain grows, the separation could do some damage - and we need to test out now whether or not there's a possibility that could happen."

"But then we'd be distressing the baby," Oliver replies, upset. "On purpose."

"Not for very long, Oliver, and I'll monitor them the entire time."

"I don't like this," he shakes his head.

"How about we do it once, tomorrow?" Caitlin suggests. "You can watch the monitors with me, and if you don't like what you see, we can stop immediately and not do it again."

He stares at her worriedly. "We can stop anytime?"

"Anytime you want," she reassures.

Reluctantly, he nods and agrees, "If you think we have to."

"I think it would be better if we tried to test it at least once so you can see what I'm talking about." Caitlin claps her hands together. “Okay, one last thing. Oliver, due to your chronic PTSD, anxiety and depression - and now, as I know, your history with prenatal depression… I want to prescribe you antidepressants through the pregnancy.”

Before Oliver can even take a second to think about what the doctor is saying properly, Felicity butts in with an alarmed, “Is that safe for him and the child?”

“I’d prescribe Zoloft,” Caitlin iterated, “Which is an antidepressant in a group of drugs called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. They’ve been found to be generally safe for pregnant women, so I’d say Zoloft would be fine for Oliver to take. We’d start at a low dose of 25mg daily, by oral tablet. Increase that to 50mg daily if after a week, everything goes okay. I really think it could make all the difference, and massively help with his mental health.”

He hesitates, but questions curiously, “Would it help with nightmares? Flashbacks?”

“Maybe not at the start,” the doctor answers. “Certainly not at the 25mg dosage. Maybe at the 50mg dosage. You’ll need to take them for several months before they begin properly working. You’ll most likely need a higher dosage, Oliver, of 200 to 250mg daily because of the nature of your physiology, but I’m not happy with you taking that much whilst pregnant.”

He finally nods. “I want to try it,” he decides. “If it’ll help with the nightmares and flashbacks, then I want to take it.”

Felicity looks worried. “Oliver.” 

“If I get any side effects, I’ll stop taking them,” he reassures. “But I want to try, Felicity.”

She looks unhappy, but agrees, “If you want to.”

Caitlin stands, rubbing her hands on her sides as she smiles and says, "Well, I think that's everything. Time to head back to the mansion."

He perks up. "Patrol tonight?"

Felicity shoots him a disbelieving look. "I don't think so, mister, not after the volume of anaesthetic Caitlin pumped into you."

"But I feel fine now."

"But the drugs are still in your system," Felicity argues.

"I have to agree with Felicity," Caitlin says. "No patrol tonight. Because of the last dredges of the anaesthetic in your bloodstream and the fact we haven't tested the effect of separation from Felicity yet. You have to remember, you're not just looking after yourself when you go out there now, Oliver. You've got a baby you've got to care for as well."

"And that means no reckless decisions, no dangerous climbing or jumping and NO ZIPLINES," Felicity insists, reminding him of their short conversation on the topic before.

He rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face that shows he means it as teasing. The Bellator stands and pulls his mate up with him, chuckling at her small yelp of surprise; pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, he murmurs, "I promise I'll be careful," before kissing her again. Felicity meets him in it just as passionately, sighing and wrapping her arms around his neck as they both sink into each other's embrace.

"Alright, break it up, you two," Diggle sighs, prodding Oliver hesitantly on the shoulder. He growls into the kiss to warn him away, but the prodding continues so that he's forced to pull away from his mate and turn to snarl. "Thank you. You two can do that in the privacy of your bedroom without Caitlin or I there. Come on, let's get you two lovebirds home."

The journey back is fleet, if only because Oliver finds himself lost in Felicity's eyes throughout most of it. She sits half on his lap with one of her arms around his shoulder and the other resting on top of them, her hand splayed over the top of his, which is resting over his stomach protectively. The Bellator has the feeling that both of them are going to be very careful about this baby, but Felicity will be the most doting. She's already staring at the belly with adoration, despite the fact there isn't really much evidence of the baby there yet.

They clamber out of the vehicle at the steps of the Queen mansion's porch as the fringes of darkness begin to encroach upon the sunset, the sky shaded with purples and dark blues. As they're about to head inside and inform the rest of their family and team of their triumph in getting the tracker out, Caitlin holds them back.

She pulls out an A4 envelope and hands it over to the Bellator with a small, secretive grin. "Don't spend too long staring at these, okay?"

He shoots her a glance of confusion, but when he opens the envelope and peers into its contents, it's as if all the oxygen is sucked out of his lungs. Sonogram photos. Three A4 ones of the baby in different positions, and two smaller business card sized ones. He bites his lip and forces himself to hold back his emotional tears so he can look up at the doctor and whisper, "Thank you."

He and Felicity spend all evening gazing at them.

After an hour of celebration with the Queen family and their team, Oliver excuses himself and his mate claiming he's very tired after the surgery, and they head up to their bedroom, precisely so that they can look at the photos for hours and hours together, curled up in the closet nest.

"They've got your nose," Felicity mumbles, snuggling into the Bellator's chest but wincing as her shoulder catches the edge of a stray hanger in the nest of clothes. She points at the photo where she thinks the baby's nose is. "Look."

Oliver squints. "I'm pretty sure that's its foot."

"No, it's the baby's nose," Felicity insists with a yawn, smiling into his neck.

"How can you tell?"

"Let's say it's mother’s intuition."

"Well, I say it's one of the baby's feet."

"It could be its penis for all we know," Felicity grumbles, eyes closing as she tries to curl up and drop off to sleep.

Oliver shakes his head. "No, it's a girl."

"Thought you didn't want to know," his mate sighs.

He grins. "Call it mother's intuition."

She swats him in the arm. "Cheeky."

"You know you love it."

She opens one eye and dots kisses over his neck, purring. "I love _you_."

Tucking the photos back into the envelope and hiding them under a pillow, he murmurs, "I love you too," pecking her on the lips lovingly before settling down to sleep beside her.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

"If this is gonna be our nest for the foreseeable future," she mutters, "Please get more pillows and sheets to make it more comfortable."

That need to please his mate flares inside of him, and he replies back fiercely, "Of course."

As they fall asleep in each other's arms, Oliver is struck with a sudden through that makes him jerk back into full consciousness. Recently, he's been having these overwhelming emotions to please his mate as much as possible, and he thinks he finally understands why. Most species, before a male and female become mates, have the two potential partners court. Humans date before becoming boyfriend and girlfriend and remain in a relationship usually for a period of several months before even considering mateship.

His and Felicity's relationship bloomed out of Oliver's biology choosing her as a compatible mate without any sort of courting whatsoever, he and Felicity are together - but the Bellator was never able to prove to Felicity that he would be a worthy partner, powerful and deserving of her attention and love. His instincts to try and impress her stem from the fact that he was never able to prove himself to her. Felicity has no idea whether or not he'd actually make a good mate for her because she was forced into this relationship with him due to his desperate physiology.

He squares his shoulders and tightens his arms around her. From this point on, Oliver is going to prove himself a worthy mate, deserving of somebody as kind and amazing as Felicity. He'll do whatever it takes to impress and please her as much as possible.

The Bellator is going to court Felicity properly. It may be pointless as they're already mates who have claimed one another, but at least then he'll feel much better about this situation, and feel as if he's deserving of Felicity's hand. This might even bring them closer together as a couple.

Yes, in the morning, he'll start courting Felicity. He knows it'll probably drive them both crazy, especially as they won't be able to display their affection to each other in kisses and cuddles in front of the others anymore. They certainly won't be able to have sex until the courting is over. But in the end, Oliver will have proved himself a worthy partner, and both of them will be much happier in this relationship.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar
> 
> Game for the comments of the chapter: How do you think Oliver's behaviour towards Felicity will change now, with his decision at the end of the chapter?


	31. The Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver puts his plan concerning Felicity and their relationship into action, which leads to some plotting with friends, general confusion, and an interesting situation upon the Queen mansion rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I promised this last week but on my Twitter poll people voted for me to postpone all my updates until after SDCC was over. It is now over. If you're not following me on Twitter... I'll just have to say that I think you might want to, as I hold polls there reasonably regularly about which fics my readers want me to focus on. @lexiblackbriar is my url.
> 
> This will be the last chapter of DNTMBTM for a while, since I have to focus on some of my other fics, just FYI.
> 
> Thank you for all your support, I really appreciate it :)
> 
> Game for the comments: What do you think's going to happen if Oliver is allowed what's discussed at the end of the chapter?
> 
> **TW: Minor discussion and description of male pregnancy, including symptoms.**

* * *

The Bellator wakes up at five in the morning, alert and prepared for the first day of courting. He's going to be the best courter that Felicity has ever seen. He gazes down at the blonde in his arms fondly for a few minutes, dotting a few last kisses over her lips, nose and forehead, hugging her tightly to his chest. She snuffles adorably in her sleep and smiles into his skin with a sigh. God, she's so beautiful. It's going to physically destroy him having or restrict his touching of her, but Oliver knows that he has to be patient in this courting. He has to behave.

The first order of business is making their nest more comfortable as his mate requested. Usually courting partners wouldn't share a nest, but there's absolutely no way that Oliver is moving out to sleep away from Felicity, so he'll just have to make it the best nest ever for her.

He slips out of Felicity's arms cautiously as not to wake her, yanks on a T-shirt and shorts, and then immediately goes on the hunt for more pillows and sheets. The Queen mansion is like a maze of never-ending winding corridors, so it's lucky that he's scent marked specific paths around the house to help him find his way around, otherwise the archer would be terribly lost. Darting back and forth into various empty guest rooms and closets, he gathers as much bedding as he can physically hold within two arms before heading back to his bedroom, chuffing in satisfaction.

Halfway there, however, he's met by Thea and Tommy standing in the corridor in their pyjamas, rubbing their eyes tiredly. Oliver thought he was being rather quiet, but perhaps accidentally yanking that drawer out so it clattered to the ground a corridor down created more noise than he expected it to. He pauses in his path, narrowing his eyes at the two humans. Baring his teeth with a warning chitter, he wonders for a brief moment whether or not these two will try and stop him, or help him.

"Ollie? What are you doing up this early?" Thea asks groggily.

“... stuff,” he replies evasively.

“Wow. Feel free to elaborate on that at any point,” Tommy deadpans. “The police are coming over today to interview you about Felicity’s kidnapping, so you really should be resting. Shouldn't you be in your nest with your mate?"

"It's not comfy enough for her," Oliver says solemnly, "So I'm fixing that."

Thea groans, leaning against the wall. "At half five in the morning?"

“Yes!” he insists.

“Well, please be more considerate considering the time,” Tommy grumbles. “As an apparently stealthy vigilante, you sure make a lot of noise.”

"I’m trying to get this done before Felicity wakes up. I have to be a good courting partner."

Tommy frowns, running a hand through his short dark hair, which currently looks like a bird's nest. "I'm sorry, what? Courting partner?"

Oliver shifts nervously, emitting a low sound. Should he tell them? Should he not? They wouldn't dare attempt to stop him, would they? Tommy's been supportive since the beginning, although he had his misgivings about Oliver and Felicity's relationship early on, before they established it. Thea started off on rocky ground with the Bellator, but now adores him, and is in full support of he and Felicity being mates.

"I'm courting Felicity," he finally admits, pulling all the sheets and pillows tighter to his chest. "I was meant to do it before we claimed each other as mates but everything was so rushed because of Price and the conservation that - it kind of slipped my mind."

Thea's eyes widen. "Wait, by courting you mean - dating?"

"Yeah, I guess that's the human term for it. I know I'm late starting but -"

"Humans still date once they’re in relationships," Tommy interrupts. "So I think you're good."

His little sister squeals in excitement, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, you’ve got to let us help you plan the first date!”

“I think their first date was spent in that closet last night,” Tommy says. “Doing unspeakable, dirty things.”

“Huh,” Thea grins. “Usually you don’t put out on the first date, Ollie.”

“Please explain what you’re talking about,” the Bellator says tiredly. “And how this relates to me courting Felicity.”

“If you’re dating somebody, you usually take them on a romantic outing,” Thea explains with a beaming smile. She slings her arm over his shoulder, and Oliver narrows her eyes at her in confusion. “You know. Out to dinner, or for coffee. To the movies to see a chick flick. There’s mood lighting, wine, chocolate and sexual tension.”

“We’re not having alcohol,” he immediately protests. “Alcohol is _bad_.”

Tommy snorts. “It’s still ironic you saying that, considering how much alcohol you drank in the past.”

“Look, guys, I really appreciate you offering your help,” Oliver says, taking a step back from them, cradling all the bedding. “But at this stage in the courting, I’m not really looking to take Felicity out anywhere. I need to get our nest sorted before I do anything else.”

“Hmm…” Tommy examines the Bellator cautiously with a calculating gaze. He must be searching for sincerity in the archer’s expression, but he’s not worried. He’s incredibly serious about this courting. After a moment, Tommy asks, "Need any help carrying more blankets and stuff?"

Oliver's face breaks out into a grin. "Yes, please."

The three of them return to Oliver's bedroom with arms full of blankets, pillows and sheets. The Bellator chitters happily at the sight of the pile of bedding and beams at his little sister and ally, thanking them for helping him, but Thea and Tommy aren't finished yet. They drag him downstairs and down a corridor he hasn't been through yet.

Thea knocks on a giant wooden door and they barely have to wait a few seconds before it's opened, and Walter's cheerful face greets them. "Good morning, you three. Rather early for you all to be up, isn't it? Oliver, I wouldn't have expected you to be away from Felicity."

Oh god, that's right. His heart sinks, and he has to physically restrain himself from resting his hands over his belly protectively. The baby reacts to him being separated from Felicity. Hopefully, they're okay. He hasn't been away from his mate for that long, and he's been away from her before without anything bad happening, so maybe if he returns quickly within the next five minutes to her side, everything will be fine.

He doesn't even realise Thea's talking until she elbows him in the side. "... So yeah, Oliver needs a load of the spare pillows and blankets. We've taken all the main stashes from Raisa's closets upstairs, but we're wondering if there's any more."

Walter opens his mouth to respond, but Moira gets there first, appearing behind her mate and saying, "There should be a basket full of freshly washed sheets in the pantry from when we had the Smithsons staying over last month, Thea."

"Thanks, Mom!" Thea chirps, kissing her on the cheek before grabbing Oliver's hand and dragging him away.

“Good luck!” both of the adults call.

As they reach the lobby, Tommy and Thea tugging him in the opposite direction to the stairs, Oliver breaks their hold on him and lies, "I have to get back up to the nest to check Felicity's not woken up yet, and start layering the sheets."

They both take it in their stride, although they can most likely tell he's lying if he goes by their slightly raised eyebrows. "Sure," Tommy says, "We'll meet you up there with some more stuff in five minutes or so. Is there anything else you need?"

"What's Felicity's favourite food?" He asked immediately.

Tommy looks confused. "Er, I'm not sure. She really liked mint chip ice cream and there's a particular place in her heart for coffee, as you're aware, but -"

"Thank you!" Oliver shouts, cutting Tommy off and bounding back up the stairs gracefully.

Felicity is still asleep when he arrives back at their closet den, although she's curled herself into Oliver's side of the nest with her nose buried in his pillow, instinctively seeking out his scent. It makes him smile, kneeling down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Ol'ver?" she slurs, eyelids fluttering open just a fraction to peer up at him blearily as he sweeps her up into his eyes bridal style. He needs to move her for just a minute or two so he can transfer all of the bedding for new nest material into the closet. "Wha...?"

"Moving for just a couple of minutes, honey," he promises quietly, nuzzling at her with a purr. "We'll go back to the nest straight away afterwards."

He lies her gently into the stripped bed and props s pillow from the couch in the corner under her head, draping one of the new blankets over her. His mate falls back to sleep almost instantly, despite the effort it takes to get Felicity to release his shirt from her clenched fingers. As he's picking up all the bedding from the floor to carry into the nest, struggling with how much he's gathered, Tommy and Thea let themselves in silently. They both have another armful of sheets and pillows each, and the Bellator chuff appreciatively at the sight.

Oliver refuses both of them entry into the den as he doesn't want their human scenes tarnishing it, so both of them wait outside the closet doors, passing all the sheets, blankets and pillows through for the Bellator to lay down and arrange perfectly to create the soften nest flooring possible. He's so happy with the end result that he hugs them both awkwardly afterwards. Both Tommy and Thea appear shocked but also delighted as he embraces them in his thanks.

Felicity once again doesn't wake up fully as he carries her back into the nest. She must be exhausted. Brushing his hands down her arms tenderly, he half wakes her up again with tender kisses and nips all over his neck, asking softly, "Do you want anything? I can get you coffee."

"Hmm, coffee," she hums absentmindedly, still not fully conscious, but awake enough to understand what he's saying and appreciate what he's offering.

"S'that a yes?"

"Hmm."

He nods and rushes out of the den, practically sprinting down the stairs. It's probably why he and Lance go tumbling down the last few steps together, the detective yelping as he slams into him and takes them both down. Luckily, the Bellator has incredible balance and reflexes, and he manages to catch them both so neither of them collapses to the ground, both just staggering a little.

"Slow down there, kid!" Lance admonishes him. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"I need coffee," he says desperately.

Lance frowns. "Thought you weren't allowed coffee."

"It's not for me, it's for Felicity," he explains.

The detective narrows his eyes. "Really? You sure you're not just lying to me so you can get high on it like Felicity told me happens?"

"I'm not lying," the Bellator crosses his arms across his chest defensively. "Besides, I'm not allowed coffee in my condition anyway." Caitlin would flay him alive if he consumed any coffee or high caffeine containing foods; she hasn't told him specifically not to drink it, but he knows from his research into humans that drinking coffee during pregnancy is dangerous for the baby. Oliver isn't going to risk doing anything that could increase the risk of him losing this child.

"Uh, 'condition'?" Lance repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"She says I won't be able to stomach any strong foods or liquids after the anaesthesia from the surgery for a few days," he lies.

Lance scrutinises him carefully for a few seconds, then rolls his eyes and agrees, "Fine, I'll help you get coffee for Felicity, as long as it's definitely for her."

"It is."

"Come on, let's go the kitchen. Mr Diggle and Ms Michaels are sure to have some brewing right now."

Ten minutes later, a very smug and happy Bellator is able to return to his mate with a cup of coffee in hand for her. He slinks into the nest and is surprised to see that Felicity is awake, sitting up and staring around at the mounds and mounds of blankets, sheets and pillows in astonishment and bafflement. Grinning, Oliver scoots over to her and offers the cup.

"Good morning, beautiful," he says, rubbing a thumb over one of her bare shoulders. "I got coffee!"

Instead of hitting him with adoring eyes and gushing him with thanks and praise as he expects, Felicity's eyes widen in horror and she snatches the coffee cup out his hands in such haste that she spills some of it onto the pillows below. Oliver cries out in protest, blinking at her in confusion.

"You know you're not allowed coffee!" Felicity responds angrily, prodding him in the chest. "Why would you get this?!"

The Bellator shrinks into himself with a short whine when affronted by her fury. He thought she would be pleased, not upset. And how he's upset - he can't even do one thing right for his mate. It's the first day of courting and he's already messing up. "I - it's for you," he replies, his voice small.

Felicity's enraged expression morphs into one of brief shock, before turning guilty. "Oh. I'm sorry, sweetheart, I thought that - you got this for me?" She warms her hands on the cup, staring down into the hot brown liquid with a frown.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, curling into himself and putting his head in his hands. He's so awful. Even when he tries to do something nice, he somehow fails.

"Oh, no, baby." Felicity quickly shuffles onto her knees so she can draw him into an embrace, shushing him and rubbing his back comfortingly. "I'm sorry, it's my fault, I shouldn't have assumed and got mad so easily. I was just really scared for a moment that you'd drunk some of it." He nods into her shoulder, arms wrapped around her tightly. Her strong scent of vanilla, honey and lavender washes over him, although the vanilla is more emphasised, the spicy scent calming him. "Thank you for the coffee, Oliver. I really appreciate the thought." She glances around them. "Okay, the bedding has definitely at least tripled in here."

His chest puffs out in pride. "Yeah, I made it more comfortable for us!"

"I hope Moira and Walter know you've taken all of this," she says, alarmed as she picks up an expensive looking satin pillow. “And I hope you didn’t take this stuff from bedrooms that people were actually sleeping in.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he replies, insulted that she thinks that he would. "Thea and Tommy helped, and we asked Mom and Walter where more stuff was, so they know I took it." Shifting nervously, he questions, "Are you happy?"

Felicity shoots him a confused glance. "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

He chuffs, proud of himself. As he stands, offering his hand to her to help her to her feet, Felicity makes a faint noise of protest.

“You didn’t let me say good morning,” she whines.

He wrinkles his nose. “Um. Good morning?”

“Not to you, silly,” she grins, tugging him towards him so she’s kneeling just in front of him. “I need to say good morning to Baby Bellator.”

He chuckles. “Baby Bellator? Really?”

“Well it can’t be baby boy or baby girl, because we don’t know the gender,” his mate answers. “And I don’t want to use any of the other nicknames that mothers use, like sweet pea or blueberry.”

“I don’t want you referring to our kid as food, please,” Oliver snorts.

“Baby Bellator,” she grins. She leans forward and rests her head on his abs, eye closing as she presses a kiss to the bare skin under his t-shirt. “Good morning, baby. This is mommy talking to you right now. Daddy and I are very happy about you, I hope you know that. I just want you to know that you’re loved, and you are our sweet little miracle.” Pulling away, Felicity wobbles to her feet. She smiles widely as she sees the happy tears in the Bellator’s eyes, wiping them away gently with her thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver answers, sniffing furiously as he angrily scrubs at his eyes. “I’m not sad, I shouldn’t be crying.”

“You’re hormonal. And you’re happy,” Felicity grins. “Really, really happy. They’re happy tears, sweetheart.”

He shifts her hands down to his belly, his fingers wrapping over hers, revelling in the warmth of her skin against his own. “Are you going to do that every morning?”

“Speak to the baby? You bet. Every spare, private moment we find, I’ll be chatting to our little one. Got to get used to the sound of my voice, don’t they? I read in a book somewhere that talking to the fetus encourages healthy growth and helps develop a stronger bond between parent and child.”

“Then we’ll be talking to the baby every day.” Oliver rests his hands on her hips, smiling joyously at his mate. "Come on, let's go and get breakfast. You’re sure that you like the nest now and like the coffee?”

“I’m pretty certain,” Felicity replies, quirking an eyebrow in slight confusion at why he’s still interested in this topic.

“Good.”

Relieved that his first courting gifts haven't been completely rejected, he traipses downstairs with his mate. They don't hold hands like usual, however, which Felicity seems a little bemused by. She'll understand why quickly though when she realises that he's courting her. Kisses and cuddles in their den and nest are allowed, but public displays of affection have to be restricted. Tommy and Thea are the only people at breakfast and greet them both enthusiastically, asking Felicity is she likes the makeover of their nest. She responds with the affirmative, and when she's gone to refill the cup that Oliver got her, Tommy gives him a thumbs up and Thea winks.

"Ah, there you two are," Caitlin says, entering the dining room just as Tommy and Thea exit to go and change into day clothes. After a rapid check that nobody else is around, the doctor continues, "We'll get the separation test done now then, since you're both free. Diggle delivered all the ultrasound equipment into my bedroom an hour ago. I just need to grab a cup of coffee for myself - meet you in the lobby in five?"

“Yeah, sure,” Felicity replies with a smile, shoving the last slice of her apple into her mouth.

An instant nervousness sweeps through the Bellator, and he feels a flare of anxiety from Felicity through the bond. Both of them maintain calm and collected personas, nodding with a false grin. They finish up, stand, and walk out cool-headedly, whilst slowly breaking apart internally, very concerned about the test they’re about to perform - or, more accurately, what the tests could trigger in the baby, and what the results could mean for the future.

They sit on the steps at the bottom of the staircase side by side, arms brushing each other's they’re so close. Oliver rests one of his hands over his belly protectively, emitting a low, worried rumble. After a moment of tense silence, his mate reaches over and grasps his hand tightly, entwining her fingers with his and exhaling with a shudder.

“Oliver,” Felicity says quietly. “Please don’t tell me I’m not the only one who’s scared here.”

He laughs weakly, the sound foreign and awkward. “I’m terrified.”

“... are we certain that this is a good idea?”

“Caitlin seems to think we need to.”

“Yes, but what if this upsets the baby?” His mate’s eyes fill with tears. “Oliver, I really don’t want us to accidentally hurt our child.”

There’s a spark in his mind. _Please your mate. PLEASE YOUR MATE_. He has to make Felicity happy. What kind of courting partner would he even be if he doesn’t try and make her the happiest woman on the face of the earth?

“You don’t want to do this?” he asks, standing and taking hold of both of her hands, looking down at her with an intense, fierce gaze.

She stares back, licking her lips. After a second, she whispers, “I don’t want to upset the baby.”

“And you think this will upset the baby?”

“From everything that Caitlin’s told us? Yes.”

“So you don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t know, Oliver,” she responds, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

Due to the confliction he can sense across the mate bond, Oliver makes up his mind before she even finishes her question. Unleashing an animalistic growl, the Bellator swoops down and sweeps Felicity off her feet and over his shoulder securely. She screams, clutching at his t-shirt, as the archer sprints out of the house by bursting through the front doors. She screams even louder, shouting his name in shock and terror as the Bellator begins scaling the side of the mansion, using the guttering and window-sills to clamber like a powerful, graceful panther to the top of the building. The flat roof is covered in a mixed blanket of fresh and dead leaves, hundreds of pine cones and the occasional pebble scattered all over.

Oliver releases Felicity, setting her down onto her feet only once they’re safely on top of the roof, although he’s hastened in his decision to put her down by his mate painfully pounding her fists into his back.

“Ow,” he says rather pitifully as she hits him in the shoulder again in her rage.

“WHAT THE HELL?” she yells. “Oliver, what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!”

“We’re hiding up here from Caitlin so we don’t have to do the test,” he says, confused. “Because we don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“So you throw me over your shoulder like I’m - I’m some _sack of potatoes_ and carry me up to the roof like you’re a barbarian?!” she shouts. “I’m not your possession to be dragged around, Oliver!”

He’s speechless for a moment, and his heart slowly sinks. He’s messed up. Again. “I - I just wanted to make you happy,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around himself and withdrawing into himself. He sends out a pulse of distress through the bond, hoping that it might ease Felicity’s anger towards him, but she only grows more furious.

“You thought _this_ would make me happy?! Being lugged up to the roof against my will?”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he shouts back, agitated. The Bellator cringes away from her, rubbing his belly. “I - I don’t know! You said you didn’t want to make the baby distressed and I don’t want to either and you said you weren’t sure about the test so - so I made that decision for us, as the one carrying our child.”

Felicity’s expression softens very slightly, but her voice is still hard as she replies, “As mates, we should make decisions together. And both of us, Oliver, should be listening to Caitlin. She’s the doctor. She knows best when it comes to the baby.”

“Does she?” he counters, gritting his teeth. “I might seem like a naive, guileless child to all of you, but even I’m smart enough to know that if an unborn infant shows discomfort towards something, you don’t deliberately put that child in that situation. You don’t torment the child for the sake of science.”

His mate’s face falls. “I don’t think you’re a child,” Felicity says, upset. “I don’t treat you like you’re stupid.” When Oliver glances away, scowling, her expression transforms into one of horror. “Do I?”

“Not you,” he answers quietly. “But everybody else… it feels as if lately, everybody else has been treating me as unintelligent, rather than amnesiac. Felicity, this morning at breakfast you were _there_. You heard how Tommy explained to me how tea bags work. I - I felt like he was talking to me as if I was a five-year-old.”

“To be fair to Tommy,” Felicity says, “You really didn’t know how tea bags work.”

“I know that!” Oliver snaps. “But I’m not a child!”

“You’re acting like a child right now!” she counters, stepping up towards him and poking her finger violently into his chest. “Throwing a tantrum about Caitlin’s test!”

“Because there is a risk to the baby!” Oliver's voice breaks as he whispers, “I lost my first baby, Felicity. Please, I don’t want to torture this one unnecessarily.”

Felicity finally calms enough to exhale, gazing at him searchingly, as if examining his mood. “Why didn’t you say that last night when we were discussing this test with Caitlin?”

“I told her I didn’t like the idea.”

“You didn’t say anything else.”

“Caitlin said I could stop anytime if I wanted to,” Oliver points out. “I want to stop now.”

“Before we’ve even started? Really?” his mate asks exasperatedly.

Oliver shoots her a desperate, pained look. The Bellator shakes his head, giving up. Felicity is almost as stubborn as he is. She’s not going to give this up. Turning away, the archer stalks across the rooftop and begins collecting pinecones in his arms. He accidentally left his bow and quiver in the corner of their closet den, to his utter annoyance, otherwise, he would be nocking arrows right now; he finds the sensation of the fletching on his fingertips soothing. Some of the cones are massive, almost the size of his palms, to his shock. His mate rolls her eyes at him and tries to follow him, but Oliver whips back and glares at her. He’s been doing his very best to please her, but she’s thrown every single one of his attempts back in his face.

“What is wrong with you?” she murmurs, bemused. “You’ve never acted like this before. You’ve been antsy and emotional in the past but this isn’t like that. It’s almost like you’re…” She trails off, staring at him.

“I’m what?” he questions, dumping his pile of pinecones on the ground. Felicity shoots the collection a weird look, but at least she’s paying attention to it; Oliver can prove himself a talented gatherer of resources that way, another part of the courting.

“Hormonal.”

“Don’t you start on that,” Oliver snaps, glaring. “Just because I’m pregnant and happen to have had a stressful time lately, does not mean I’m hormonal.”

“You’re totally hormonal.”

He points a finger at her. “No.”

“Yes,” she laughs.

Oliver bares his teeth, not quite snarling at his mate, because he would never do that, but enough to let her know he’s not happy. He’s unable to respond, however, with what he thinks is a snarky reply, because a voice shouts up from the ground below them.

“What’s going on up there?” Caitlin yells, cupping her hands to her mouth to make her voice travel further. The Bellator glances over the edge of the roof to see the doctor standing on the porch with the rest of his family and team around her. All of them are peering up to the top of the building, squinting against the morning light. 

“Go away, Caitlin!” Oliver yells back. “We’re not doing your test!”

“What test?” he hears Walter question.

“It’s, erm, confidential,” the doctor answers. “Oliver, come down! Is Felicity up there with you?”

“Caitlin, get me down!” Felicity shouts, rushing to the edge and waving her arms. “He grabbed me and carried me up here against my will!”

“Oh my god,” the doctor says, barely audible to the Bellator.

“I’ll go get a ladder,” Diggle offers.

Before the archer even registers what he’s doing, he grabs one of his giant pine cones, the size of a small boulder, from the pile and lobs it off the roof. If he can’t shoot arrows - then he’ll throw pinecones. It falls like a grenade with a whistle through the air, and seeing it, the large group of humans squawk in alarm and dive out of the way.

The pinecone lands on the ground with a crunch, some of the barbs breaking off.

“ _NO LADDER!_ ” Oliver bellows.

“Oliver!” Felicity exclaims in shock.

“Is that a pinecone?” Diggle says, dazed from flinging himself onto the grass to avoid the object. “Did Oliver just throw a pinecone as a bomb at us?”

“Yes, I think he did,” Lyla answers, picking up the half-broken pinecone with a disbelieving chuckle.

Felicity stalks towards the Bellator and Oliver picks up another two pine cones, one in each hand. “You can’t just chuck pine cones at our friends, you dolt!”

“We’re not going down.”

“Yes, we are!” Felicity shouts.

“Oliver?” Tommy calls. “Everything okay up there, buddy?”

Anger coursing through him, Oliver throws the next two pine cones directly aimed at the young Merlyn’s head. Tommy yelps and tries to duck to the side, but is too slow - one of the cones hits him in the head, and the other in his chest. “Don’t call me _buddy_!” the Bellator screams. “I’m not _five_!”

“I - I never suggested that you are,” Tommy says, sounding bewildered.

“Sorry, Tommy,” Felicity calls down. “He’s going through a bit of a hormonal episode.” Turning to glower at Oliver, she adds, “It must be his time of the month.”

“Stop,” he growls.

“Yeah, bu - Oliver, I don’t think talking to your mate like that is the correct way to court her, ya know,” Tommy shouts up.

Scooping up another two pine cones, the Bellator chucks one of them with a ferocious snarl. “You’re not allowed to tell her! She has to figure it out on her own!” he yells.

He aims to throw the next one, but Felicity catches his arm. She spins him around, grasping both of his wrists so tightly that he’s forced to drop the pinecone. The Bellator bares his teeth at her again, but blinks in surprise when his mate snarls back at him fiercely. “ENOUGH!” she roars.

Within an instant, he submits. The alpha in him falls back as the omega rears forwards in face of an alpha female. Oliver shrinks in his skin and shuffles back until there’s a foot distance in between them. He’s very starkly reminded of how Shado used to sharply reprimand him when he did something wrong back at the facility.

“What is _with you_?” Felicity hisses. “Tell me what is going on, _right now_ , mister. The _truth_ , please.”

He stares at her for a moment. “I can’t say.”

“ _Oliver_.”

“I really can’t tell you,” he says. “You’re - you have to work it out.”

“I can’t work it out if we don’t communicate!”

“Then feel it!” he insists. Grabbing her hands, the Bellator forces his mate to rest her hands on his chest, gazing at her intensely as he continues persistently, “Feel it through our bond. I can’t tell you, but just - try and _feel it_.”

Swallowing, he can see the immense concentration in his mate’s eyes as Felicity tries to focus on their mate bond, which is wavering in emotional turmoil due to their fighting. He shudders as he senses her prodding curiously, trying to work out what’s going on with him, and he pushes all the thoughts of the courting and his attempts to please her as much as possible forward towards her.

“Anybody want to give us an update on what’s going on up there?” Lyla shouts up.

“Sweetheart, we’re worried!” Moira calls. “Please come down!”

“Quiet!” Felicity commands, not breaking eye contact with the Bellator as she barks down at the humans. “I’m trying to work out what’s going on with Oliver.” Silence falls from below. After a few more seconds, Oliver’s heart sinks as his mate pulls away from him, sighing in exasperation. “All I’m getting from you is a very powerful craving for dirt.”

The Bellator blinks. “I’m not craving dirt,” he says, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Well you must be subconsciously,” she replies. “Because now I’m craving dirt. Shit, because of our bond, I’m going to start getting your pregnancy symptoms, aren’t I?”

He’s disappointed. “You didn’t get anything else? Just the dirt thing?”

“No. Why can’t you just tell me?” she asks softly, tugging on his sleeve.

“Doesn’t work that way,” he responds, annoyed. “And it won’t work unless you work it out yourself.”

“Guys? Everybody’s really freaking out down here!” Diggle shouts.

Sighing, Felicity shoots the Bellator a pointed look. He cringes. So apparently his actions have seriously agitated everybody else on the team. He didn’t intend that; he’s only been acting on courting instinct at the time. He can sense her question before his mate asks it aloud, jerking his head in an agreeing nod.

“Hold on,” Felicity calls down to them. “We’re coming down.”

“I really hope they weren’t doing the dirty up there,” Oliver overhears Tommy comment to Thea and Laurel, making them both laugh with disgusted expressions.

Oliver scoops up one last pine cone and glances towards his mate for permission. Felicity shrugs. Her smile of satisfaction when Oliver throws it and it hits Tommy directly in the head, the young Merlyn exclaiming in pain and glaring upwards sends a thrill of gratification surging through the Bellator.

“Owww!” Tommy whines. “What was that for?!”

“You deserved that, Merlyn,” Felicity yells.

“Yeah, fair enough,” the male mutters.

“Do you want a ladder?” Diggle questions, squinting up at them.

Felicity casts a glance back at Oliver, who quickly canters over to the ledge, replying loudly so the group of humans below can hear: “No, we’ll be fine. I can carry Felicity down.”

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Caitlin asks, and from what he can see, she’s raising an eyebrow at him, her expression concerned.

“She needs to stop fussing,” Oliver sighs under his breath, before calling back at higher volume, “I got us up here, I can get us down.”

“She’s Caitlin, she’s always going to fuss,” Felicity reminds him. “And please be careful when carrying us down. I don’t fancy breaking my neck.” She gently strokes her thumbs over Oliver’s hips. “And I don’t fancy Baby Bellator getting bumped either if you fall.”

He manages a smile at that. Stepping forwards, he silently asks permission to lift her up, and with her nod, he turns and motions for her to clamber onto his back. Oliver frowns slightly as Felicity gingerly wraps her arms around his neck, her breath tickling his ear as she rests her chin on his shoulder. He can sense her nerves and anxiety as they approach the edge of the roof.

“Felicity, hold onto me tight,” he instructs.

“I imagined you saying that under different circumstances.” Immediately, she blushes and he can sense her embarrassment through the bond. The honey in her scent enriches just as it does when she’s aroused, and the Bellator purrs.

“Very un-platonic circumstances, I’m guessing,” Oliver whispers, grinning.

“You would not be wrong,” she mumbles into his neck.

He begins descending to the ground as cautiously as possible, trying to focus on his actual physical motion rather than Felicity’s squeaking in his ear. The Bellator keeps his movements fluid and smooth as he carefully clambers down the side of the building, his footing sure, and actions confident.

The group of humans clear a space for them as Oliver finally reaches the ground, feeling slightly strangled by Felicity’s tightened arms. She’s holding her breath and only exhales shakily once they’re firmly on the ground. Oliver slowly untangled her fingers so she can slide off his back, quickly turning around to brace her, supporting her by the waist, as she tips sideways for a brief moment.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, flicking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She nods, swallowing. She looks a little sick. “I don’t particularly like heights.”

His mate, afraid of heights? Raising their child and training them in parkour will certainly be interesting if they inherit their mother’s fear.

“Alright, everybody, show’s over,” Diggle says, motioning everybody away. Looking baffled and disappointed, the rest of the team and the Queen family begin dispersing, heading back inside of the mansion and leaving the Bellator alone with his mate, his doctor and his bodyguard.

“End of the hormonal episode?” Caitlin questions, striding over with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’m not hormonal,” Oliver sulks, corner of his lip raising in a small growl.

“Considering that your routine bloods from yesterday evening showed increasing hormone activity, I’d beg to differ,” the doctor responds. “You know, it’s normal for pregnancies to cause hormonal changes, that affect your levels of neurotransmitters. Mood swings are to be expected.”

“I’m not some teenage kid,” he scowls, pushing around her and stalking back towards his mate, who is now having a quiet conversation with the bodyguard.

His wrist is caught and he whips around, baring his teeth with a furious hiss at the doctor. He’s struck with a sudden urge to apologise, because he doesn’t exactly know why he’s being so rude with Caitlin. In fact, he feels quite guilty about it. Instinct, however, is urging him to take _humans=threat_ into account again, and protect himself, his mate, and his unborn child from her. Hence his threatening behaviour.

“I have an immense amount of patience, Oliver,” Caitlin says sternly. “But keep growling at me like that and I won’t hesitate to put you on time out.”

He doesn’t know what a time out is, but judging by the doctor’s voice, it’s something bad. Scuffing his shoe across the porch pavement, Oliver mumbles, “Sorry.”

In the face of the Bellator’s innocent and sheepish apology, Caitlin can only admit defeat and roll her eyes, smiling as she ruffles his hair fondly. Oliver frowns unhappily and ducks away from her hand, batting at her fingers with a chuff. Her ruffling of his hair reminds him of the keeper, which causes unpleasant memories to brew at the back of his mind. He’s not a pet - although he can’t deny that he does enjoy having his hair played with, but only when it’s Felicity doing it.

“Can we go and inside and talk?” Caitlin asks softly.

“I don’t want to do the test,” he immediately answers.

“And we don’t have to, today,” she reassures.

“Good, because I seriously don’t want Oliver to have an episode like that again,” Felicity says in relief, joining their conversation.

She snakes her arm around Oliver’s waist so that her hand rests on top of his hip in a rather possessive and protective motion. Instantly, the Bellator stiffens. No public displays of affection are allowed during the courting period. With that in mind, he pulls away from his mate, putting a foot of distance between him and Felicity and entwining his fingers to make sure he keeps his hands to himself. He does it as subtly as possible, hoping Felicity won’t notice - but of course, she does. It was ridiculous of him to think that she wouldn’t.

Her eyes widen and she casts a bemused look towards him. “Oliver? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “Caitlin, I don’t mind going in and talking.”

Felicity looks upset at the quick dismissal, and even more distressed at the idea of space between them. Oliver winces, feeling her mood depressing through the mate bond, as she’s afraid that she’s done something to scare or bother him. Even Caitlin and Diggle are shooting him strange, confused looks, but luckily both of them drop it.

“Good,” the doctor says, in response to his agreement. “I’d like to start you on Zoloft, but all of us need to seriously discuss the possible side effects.”

“Okay,” Felicity finally concedes, turning to Caitlin. “Let’s head in. I could really use another coffee right now.”

“I’ll get it for you!” Oliver offers, perking up at the chance to please his mate once again.

“No, it’s okay, honey,” Felicity declines hurriedly. There’s a glint of panic in her eyes that bewilders the Bellator. “You already scared me enough this morning by bringing that cup up to the nest.”

“Wait, what? Oliver drank coffee?!” Caitlin snaps, nearly shrieking due to her alarm.

“No!” Oliver protests. “I got coffee for Felicity!”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” the doctor deflates. “I don’t think your body would be able to process the caffeine right now. You’d go off the rails.”

“Well, there’s always decaf,” Diggle comments dryly.

Oliver pauses in their short walk back into the mansion, wide eyed at this information. “Decaf?”

“Yeah, there’s decaf coffee,” Diggle informs him. “That won’t drive you nuts because there’s no caffeine in it at all.”

The Bellator slowly turns to Felicity, his eyes as round as plates due to his excitement. “Felicity.”

She’s not looking at him, instead gazing steadily at Caitlin. “Would that be safe for him?”

“Decaf coffee? Yes,” the doctor nods. “In fact, decaf coffee could be good for him. And for the baby. Coffee contains antioxidants and is a destresser. There was a scientific study recently that suggested coffee decreases depression.”

“I need decaf coffee,” Oliver decides, jerking his head in urgent nods.

“Alright,” Caitlin says. “We’ll discuss that too.”

He chirps delightedly, pretty much skipping into the living room. The Bellator can feel his mate’s disbelieving gaze on his back.

“The Zoloft will help reduce the mood swings,” he hears Caitlin tell Felicity.

“Thank god,” his mate chuckles. “I don’t think I could deal with being dragged up onto the roof for his episodes for the next… four months?”

“Approximately another nineteen weeks,” Diggle says. “I did the numbers.”

“And he’s already subconsciously craving dirt,” Felicity sighs. “Great. This is going to be one wild ride.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment :)
> 
> Game for the comments: What do you think's going to happen if Oliver is allowed what's discussed at the end of the chapter?
> 
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


	32. The Frameshift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity argue. Caitlin deals out Oliver's new medication. And the Deputy Police Chief visits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Okay. So. First update since July. First update of 2018. First of many, I hope.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support, it's honestly meant to so much to me and I definitely wouldn't be able to do this and continue writing without you guys. You're all incredible human beings and deserve the world xx
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Warnings** for this chapter: Discussion and mentions of male pregnancy, as always.

To Oliver’s surprise, there’s already cups of tea sitting on the living room table when they enter, Felicity, Caitlin and Diggle trailing behind him. Vaulting over the back of one of the couches, he settles down cross-legged onto the cushions, blinking over his shoulder at his mate, who is watching him with a rather exasperated and tired, yet fond, expression. She sighs as she sits beside him, leaning into his side; the fact that Felicity seems rather done with this entire situation only causes the Bellator to feel guiltier as he’s forced to scoot away from her a little bit due to courting practice. His mate appears hurt like before when he pulled away from her outside, but Oliver insists to himself that the distance he’s putting between them now, for the sake of the courting, will be worthwhile in the end, when he’s finally able to prove beyond all doubt that he’s the perfect partner for Felicity.

Caitlin takes her seat across from him. “Do you want to explain what just happened?” she questions gently.

The Bellator grimaces. “Not really.”

“I’ll explain what happened,” Felicity says. “Oliver’s pregnant and hormonal and doesn’t want to risk any harm to Baby Bellator. He just took a different approach to getting that across. That involved him kidnapping me and dragging me up onto the roof.”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” Oliver scowls.

“You took me up there against my will,” she points out. “And then you made the decision about not doing the test without me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I made the decision not to experiment on our baby when I’m the one carrying them,” the Bellator replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Felicity narrows her eyes at him, and she speaks very slow in a very low, warning tone as she says, “Excuse me? Did we not just have this conversation up on the roof? You may be the one carrying our child but we are both its parents. I’m your mate. We make decisions together.”

He shifts, uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. That was rude. “You said you didn’t want to hurt or upset the baby. And said you thought the test might do both of those things. So I considered what you said and acted upon it.”

“We’ve already argued about this,” Felicity says. “I don’t want to argue again, Oliver.”

“I don’t want to either, but I want to get my point across about this.”

“You have. We don’t need to continue talking about this. Caitlin, I’m sorry, neither of us are ready to do the test yet. I especially don’t, considering Oliver is so hormonal and I feel like he’ll snap at somebody the moment I leave the room.”

“I’m not going to shout at somebody,” the Bellator growls.

Felicity raises an eyebrow. “Oh, when I meant snap - I meant bite.”

“You think I’d bite somebody?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I would never have expected you to drag me up onto the roof but you did that. I don’t know anything for certain when it comes to you anymore.”

“That is _not_ fair!’ he snarls.

“Alright!” Diggle steps forwards, interrupting. “Alright, that’s enough you two. You’re both being unfair and rude to each other right now. Take it down a notch. Apologise to each other.”

Oliver stares at the bodyguard incredulously.

But Diggle isn’t joking. He glances between them both and emphasises, “ _Now_.”

The Bellator turns to Felicity and avoids eye contact with her as he mutters, “I’m sorry for carrying you up onto the roof without your consent and shouting at you.” Felicity continues to look at him expectantly. “And for not listening to you and making decisions without you.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you too,” his mate says quietly. “And for making you feel like you were being treated like a child.”

“You didn’t do that,” he reassures her.

“I’m sorry anyway.”

Oliver scrapes his teeth over his lower lip, biting it anxiously. He gives a small nod and reaches over to quickly squeeze her hand in solidarity before releasing it, checking around to make sure nobody was gazing at them. Felicity gives a small sigh of relief, mumbling under her breath that she hates fighting with him. Oliver has to agree. He hates fighting with Felicity. Caitlin has been sitting in silence, observing them both carefully while they argued and smiles at them both now, satisfied they’ve reached an understanding.

The doctor reveals a small cardboard box from her pocket. Placing it down on the coffee table gently, she explains, “Zoloft. Antidepressant. 25mg oral tablets to be taken daily. Minimal risk to the baby at this low a dosage, but we’ll carefully monitor you over the next week or so to ensure there aren’t any serious side effects. You agreed before that you’d like to try it, but when deciding taking antidepressants, consent is vital, so I’ll ask again: are you certain you want to take these?”

Oliver nods. “As long as there’s minimal risk to the baby, then yes.”

“There’s a very small amount of evidence pointing towards the Zoloft causing complications during pregnancy. There is some suggestion that it can cause some lung problems, but if we get any inkling whatsoever that the baby’s starting to be harmed, we’ll wean you off the antidepressants immediately. As your doctor, I honestly think that going to help your mental state a lot, and the benefits you’ll get from it definitely outweigh the cons.”

Felicity raises her chin, questioning, “And what are the benefits and cons here?”

“The Zoloft will undoubtedly help Oliver get on top of his PTSD, depression and anxiety,” Caitlin informs her. “Maybe even get it does to a manageable level, where his self-destructive tendencies are under control, and rarely has panic attacks. Cons are, obviously, any side effects he might suffer.”

“Which are?”

The doctor begins listing all the known side effects of the medication to Felicity, even stating the likelihood of them arising considering the circumstances. It’s such a boring and seemingly pointless conversation to Oliver that the Bellator just rolls his eyes, grabs the packet of pills, pops the first Tuesday one and swallows it dry. Diggle is the only human that notices what he’s doing. The bodyguard doesn’t look alarmed, and instead just has an expression of amusement on his face. The Bellator shrugs. No point in wasting time. He wants to take the Zoloft no matter the possible side effects. There’s no way he’s going to be able to be an adequate mate and suitable parent if he’s having suicidal thoughts every day. 

Caitlin and Felicity finish their conversation and his mate turns back to him as if he’s been sitting quietly and listening the entire time. “So what do you think?” she asks promptly. “Still want to take it?”

“Little bit too late for that now, Felicity,” Diggle chuckles, leaning on the doorway.

Felicity’s eyes widen and her gaze sweeps down to the pill packet in Oliver’s hand, with a very noticeable, empty Tuesday hole. “Oliver!”

“Looks like Oliver’s already decided,” Caitlin says, lips quirking up into a small smile.

“Did you even listen to all the side effects Caitlin listed?!”

“... yes.”

“You’re such a shitty liar it’s not even funny,” Diggle comments.

“You’re ridiculous!” Felicity hisses, slapping the Bellator’s knee sternly, which causes him to wince and avoid eye contact with her.

“Hey,” Diggle says, glancing between them both. “No fighting.”

Felicity seems to soften. Her voice is stiff, but quiet when she questions, “What happened to mates making life decisions together?”

“When we initially talked about me going onto antidepressants, you said you were alright with it if it was what I wanted to do,” Oliver reminds her.

“Yes, but that was before Caitlin pointed out that since you and I have this emotional psychic mate-bond link between us, the Zoloft could affect me too.”

A frigid wave of shock and concern washes over the Bellator, and his eyes darted upwards to regard his mate with anxiety. Of course - his emotional state and Felicity’s are connected. She feels what he feels and vice versa. They sense each other’s presences, general ideas and thoughts. If the antidepressants will affect his mood and mental state, they’ll most likely affect Felicity’s as well. Wow, he’s such an awful mate. That didn’t even cross his mind.

Oliver doesn’t even realise he’s withdrawn into himself, silent and shaking, because he’s just so _ashamed_ of himself for not realising sooner that his mate will be affected by him spontaneously downing that pill.

The snapping of fingers in his face startles the Bellator back to the present. He straightens up, stiff and still, blinking rapidly at the doctor who is scrutinising him carefully. “Where’d you go in your mind just now?”

Swallowing, Oliver looks away. “Umm…”

“Were you feeling guilty about not taking the effects this could have on Felicity into account? You just need to nod or shake your head.”

He feels a little embarrassed as he jerks his head in a nod.

An expression of remorse flits over Felicity’s face. “Hey, I don’t want you to feel guilty. I just need you to understand that your decision is going to affect me too… and our kid.”

“Speaking of the baby,” Caitlin says, artfully changing the subject, “I also have these for you, Oliver.” She reaches into her purse to fish out a large medication bottle. “Prenatal vitamins. Cisco and I worked together to cook up some chewable strawberry flavoured gummies that have all the vitamins, minerals and extra nutrients you and the baby are going to need. And these ones…” She lifts up another bottle, although this one smaller. “... are for Felicity. They’re just normal human prenatal vitamins though.”

“But she’s not the one carrying the baby,” Diggle points out. “So why would Felicity need the vitamins?”

“It makes sense that since Felicity’s physiology is receptive to Oliver’s and the baby’s, she might end up getting some pregnancy symptoms as well,” the doctor explains, “And because of that link between them all, I think it would be better to have her taking vitamins just in case.”

“Oh god, please don’t let me be the one to get the morning sickness,” Felicity pleads, looking upwards as she runs a hand over her face tiredly. “I can deal with dirt cravings but vomit turns me into a complete and utter mess. I got food poisoning last year and actually had to take another week off work after I recovered because I was still throwing up at the smell of vomit in my apartment from that previous week.”

“That’s disgusting,” Diggle says flatly.

“Yeah, TMI, Felicity,” Caitlin laughs.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Felicity pats Oliver’s shoulder comfortingly. He stiffens under his touch, which causes her to frown in concern, but she continues as if she didn’t notice; “I’ll still support you through your morning sickness even if it makes me throw up as well.”

The Bellator tilts his head sideways. “Thank you?”

There’s a sudden knock on the front doors from out in the lobby, and the sound triggers Oliver to go on the defensive immediately; he stands and slinks in front of Felicity so she’s shielded behind him, and his hand rests over his belly protectively as he growls fiercely. His mate makes a low sound in response to try and calm him, reaching out to grasp at his wrist. Instinct forces Oliver to wrench his arm out of her grip. His heart aches at the pained, hurt noise Felicity releases. He doesn’t want to turn around and see her expression because the Bellator knows that he’ll break.

Diggle turns from his place in the doorway, and Caitlin crosses the room, both of them vanishing to go and answer the door. The Bellator remains poised in front of his mate as he listens carefully. He hears thudding as people come down the staircase and faint conversation that he can’t make out exactly, as they must be talking in hushed voices.

Tommy appears, quickly informing them, “It’s the Starling Deputy Chief of Police, he’s here early. He’s come to talk to you about what happened at the gala and also about the Bellator taskforce. Will you be okay to talk to him?”

Oliver huffs, shooting him a look. “Not. A. Child,” he emphasises. He has to admit he’s still a little annoyed about Tommy treating him as if he’s naive.

“Look, bud, I promise I don’t see you as a child,” Tommy says, his voice apologetic. “I’m sorry if you think I’ve been acting that way around you. It’s just… I wanna help you adapt to living this way as much as possible. It has to be unnerving to switch from living in the Foundry by yourself with occasional visitors, having to catch your own food, to living in a massive house with a load of other people and food constantly available.”

“I don’t get unnerved,” the Bellator says, despite the fact he knows that’s a lie.

Felicity kicks him lightly in the back of his legs from behind him. “We all know that’s not true, mister. Apologise to Tommy for being rude to him earlier please.”

Oliver rolls his eyes, but more out of amusement that irritation. “Sorry,” he offers. “I wasn’t really thinking straight earlier. I didn’t mean to attack you with pinecones.” He pauses. “Except for that last time.”

“S’okay, Oliver,” Tommy smiles. “Not the first time we’ve had our disagreements. We’ve known each other since we were seven, and we had quite a few arguments when we were growing up. Don’t sweat it.”

His mate sounds pleased as she says, “Tommy, we’ll be fine talking to the Deputy Chief, you can let him in.”

And that’s how the Bellator ends up sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the couch with Felicity and Tommy either side of him to ground him as the Deputy Chief of the SCPD takes a seat in front of him. The male is tall and stocky, in his late forties as far as Oliver can tell, with nothing particularly unassuming about him. Oliver is reassured by the fact that Diggle, Lyla, Laurel and Lance are present in the room watching on. Although Lance and Laurel still haven’t properly talked to Oliver except in passing due to the tension brought on by the Bellator informing them about Sara Lance being alive, the police detective and lawyer are still offering their support, which Oliver really appreciates.

“My name’s David Emerson, I’m the Deputy Chief of the Starling City Police,” the male introduces himself. His tone is friendly and considerate, and because the Bellator can’t send any ill will or intent to harm from him, he relaxes ever so slightly, shifting so he’s leaning back against the couch. “You’re Oliver Queen, but you want to be known only as Oliver, right?”

The Bellator nods, silently glad his mother and sister haven’t arrived yet, because he has a feeling they would wholeheartedly protest at his reluctance to accept Queen as his surname. “Yes, please.”

The male stares at him for a moment, muttering under his breath, “It’s a bit different actually hearing you talk even when you know you can.” Clearing his throat, he continues in a louder voice, “I’m the one who authorised the Bellator police taskforce and all operations associated with it.”

Oliver narrows his eyes. “You had your police officers stalking me while I was on my patrols,” he says testily.

Felicity flicks him in the thigh, hissing, “Be nice.”

“I’ve come to ask some you some questions about the attack on the gala you and your family hosted, that subsequently resulted in Miss Smoak’s kidnapping, if that’s alright,” the deputy chief carries on. “Anything either of you noticed about the people that took you, Miss Smoak, could be useful information to us.”

The Bellator and his mate exchange glances. Quirking an eyebrow, Felicity tilts her head to indicate that he should speak - and he feels a pulse through the bond encouraging him to be honest.

“We know who took Felicity,” Oliver informs him. “And I sorted things out with them. They explained their reasons and they’re not going to bother us again.”

Blinking in shock, Emerson repeats, “You sorted things out with them.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t give us any descriptions? Any names? Just some intel that would help us track them down.”

“Trust me, Deputy Chief, these are not people you will be able to track down,” Felicity mutters.

“It’s my obligation as an officer of the law to -”

“Deputy Chief,” Oliver interrupts, levelling him with a hard look. “I handled it. I’m not going to talk about the people that kidnapped my mate. What I want to talk about is Isabel Rochev.”

Everybody in the room looks surprised except for Felicity. At this point, Moira, Walter and Thea have arrived and are hovering worriedly near the back of the room next to Diggle, and even they appear confused.

“Isabel Rochev?” Lance questions incredulously. “Why?”

“She was at the gala,” the Bellator says. “I saw her. It triggered a flashback.”

A tense hush settles across the room. The realisation of what that means dawns on his friends and family. They all look horrified. Moira lets out a moan, sinking into a chair with her head in her hands. Felicity rubs the Bellator’s back in comfort, although her motions seem hesitant, which must be due to the fact that he’s been pulling away from her lately.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand,” Emerson says.

“A flashback of when Oliver was being illegally experimented on,” Lyla elaborates for him.

“She was there?” Thea whispers, her face pale with alarm.

“She tried to buy me,” the Bellator says. His voice is quiet and he gazes down at his hands. “To use as… a personal bodyguard or weapon, I’m not sure. But I’m absolutely certain - Isabel Rochev was there.”

Emerson crosses his arms over his chest, asking curiously, “It’s been days since the gala, why haven’t you told anybody this?”

“I was snapped out of the flashback itself when the attack started, and from then onwards had other more current, important things on my mind,” Oliver answers honestly. “And to be completely truthful, I’ve been debating whether or not I should tell anybody because I wasn’t sure just my memories would be enough evidence to warrant an investigation into it.”

Laurel turns to the deputy chief. “He does have a point,” she says softly. “I have no idea if his eyewitness testimony would be enough in court, considering he’s not even properly counted as a human being at the moment.”

“It might not be enough in court to take Rochev to trial,” Walter raises his voice, “But it should be enough to get a restraining order put in place, isn’t that right, Deputy Chief?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Emerson agrees. “I will definitely look into it and have some of my men start an investigation into Rochev. Something as much as her travelling to the location where we now know the shutdown facility where the _homo bellator custos_ were being made could help your case. My taskforce and I are at your disposal, Oliver. Detective Lance is our contact with you officially, so if you ever need anything you think that I could help you with, ask him to get in touch with me.” He glances over at the detective. “If that’s alright with you, Quentin.”

“Fine, yeah,” Lance nods, but he won’t make eye contact with the Bellator at all, despite Oliver’s efforts to try and get him to look at him.

“If that matter is settled, I would like to discuss patrols with you,” Emerson turns to Oliver. “You’ve been told about the conditions of you remaining here in Starling while the trial by DA Spencer, I presume.”

Caitlin pipes up at this point, reciting, “As long as Oliver continues to live in Starling City while under STAR Labs custody until the first hearing, he must continue his guardianship duties. We’ve been discussing it with Oliver and he has been made aware he’s expected to go back out on patrols.”

“Technically he was meant to the first night after DA Spencer established the conditions,” the police chief informs them. Raising an eyebrow, he glances between the Bellator and the doctor, frowning a bit when he realises that Oliver has tensed slightly. “Is there any reason why that hasn’t happened yet?”

“Many, actually,” Caitlin replies lightly. “The first of which is that Oliver had a surgery very shortly after that. But… not all of the reasons can be discussed right now.”

“Right now as in -”

“It would be better to tell you in private,” the doctor responds shortly.

She shoots the Bellator a vaguely apologetic look, and his chest tightens. He’s going to have to tell the police chief about the baby. Felicity must sense his thought process through the bond because she releases a quiet squeak sound, placing her hand on his calm to soothe his worries.

Thea raises her hand, questioning suspiciously, “Does this have anything to do with what Price was trying to force Ollie to admit to us the other day? That you said you would explain to us, Ollie, but then didn’t?”

“Thea,” Felicity says warningly, a threatening growl bubbling in her throat.

“Hey, I’m not pushing him to tell us or anything!” she protests. “I just feel like at this point, we have the right to know, especially if it’s big enough that it’s affecting his patrols.” She waves her hands at everybody else in the room. “I’m not the only one thinking it!”

Moira sighs. “She’s not,” she admits. “And in all honesty, many of us have been quite anxious about the matter.”

“You shouldn’t feel at all obligated to tell us, son,” Walter adds quickly, squeezing his mate’s arm. “But know that we are and always will be here to support you when or if you decide to tell us.

“Yeah, we’re here for you, buddy,” Tommy confirms.

“Thank you,” Oliver tells them all, appreciation washing over him as he takes in all their kind expressions. “And I will tell you, I promise. I just need a little more time.” He gazes at his mate, smiling gently. “We need a little more time.”

“Soon, though,” Felicity reassures them, bumping her shoulder into the Bellator’s. “You won’t have to wait much longer.”

“Doctor Snow, if we need to discuss Oliver’s patrols in private, may I suggest that you, Oliver, Detective Lance and I take a trip to his base of operations out in the Glades? I need to show and speak with you about the new non-invasive Bellator tracking program the taskforce will be putting in place anyway,” Emerson suggests, having stayed silent, listening to their conversation with patience.

“Felicity’s coming,” Oliver quickly says. “Diggle and Lyla too.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Emerson concurs.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Diggle nods. “We’ll head there now?”

Felicity rises to her feet beside Oliver. “I need to grab my tablet so I can run some checks on Oliver’s computer system to make sure the conservation isn’t trying to spy on him still.”

“We’ll wait for you,” the Bellator assures her quietly, brushing his hand lightly over her lower back, a gesture of intimacy that he knows he shouldn’t be partaking in due to the courting, but he can’t help himself.

“Okay,” she smiles back at him, but it seems thin and weak. There’s a dash of hurt still fluttering there in her eyes and through the bond from earlier, when he pulled away from her, and Oliver can’t help but flinch. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

The minute lasts for what seems like forever, as Lance and the deputy chief drive ahead in the chief’s squad car and Oliver waits in a black sedan belonging to the Queen family with Caitlin and Lyla, Diggle in the driver’s seat.

“Is everything okay with you and Felicity?” Lyla asks quietly.

The Bellator sighs, rubbing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Diggle deadpans. “Right.”

“And complicated means you have to push Felicity away,” Lyla says from the passenger seat. She’s staring straight ahead, not even looking around to face Oliver. “Considering the fact that you’ve been extremely overprotective and possessive of her lately, this seems to be a very drastic change.”

“It’s… I’m courting her,” the Bellator finally confesses.

“And courting her means you have to push her away? Isn’t that the exact opposite of what a courting is supposed to do?”

“We moved into a relationship early, without the proper lead up to it,” Oliver shakes his head. “My instincts… are messed up. We got intimate before I properly established myself as a worthy mate for her. That’s what the courting is about. I have to prove that I deserve her. But I have to start from - from the beginning which means setting boundaries and not being intimate…” He trails off, fidgeting his hands. It’s so difficult to explain this.

“Okay, so you don’t have sex,” Caitlin says. “But you can still hug. Kiss. Touch each other. That’s not necessarily intimate, Oliver.”

“We can’t do that in front of people.”

“Why not?”

“The courting.”

“To hell with the courting, Oliver!” Diggle snaps. “You’re _hurting_ her. Can’t you see that?”

Oliver just stares at him helplessly.

“John… I don’t think Oliver needs to see it,” Caitlin tells him carefully, placing a supportive hand on the Bellator’s knee. “He can feel it. He and Felicity have an emotional connection. He can feel how much this is affecting her, but because of his instincts urging him to court her, he doesn’t know how to proceed.”

“Proceed with caution,” Lyla advises.

“I’m trying,” Oliver says softly.

“Maybe try another way.”

But he can hear the implied _not trying enough_ and it makes him want to shrink into his skin and vanish.

The Bellator shakes his head, glancing out the window with another heavy sigh. He wants to keep going with the courting, but Diggle is right. He is hurting Felicity. He doesn’t understand what other way he can try, but perhaps if this doesn’t go the way he wants it to and Felicity remains unreceptive to his efforts in the next couple of days, he’ll force himself to stop. Every time he has to pull away from her because they’re in public feels like a bullet ripping through his chest, and feeling her hurt, her _pain_ and confusion, is awful.

He curls up in the seat against the door, feeling suddenly very tired. Seeing as how Lyla, the only person who doesn’t know about the pregnancy in the car, hasn’t glanced behind at him once, he feels it’s safe to rest his hands over his very slightly swollen belly. The Bellator rumbles quietly to himself and the baby, prodding at the weak new bond he thinks he’s been sensing at the back of his mind for the last couple of days. He gets nothing in response, but doesn’t expect to.

The other door to the sedan opens, and Felicity slips inside, clambering over Caitlin’s lap to sit next to him. As soon as Felicity does her seat belt up, Diggle puts the car into gear and begins driving. His mate immediately zeroes in on how Oliver is caressing his stomach and smiles, a spark of fondness passing through the bond, but Felicity doesn’t touch him. Oliver doesn’t know whether to be relieved, because at least he doesn’t have to pull away from her again, or disappointed.

“Okay?” she questions, a little out of breath from hurrying from the house to the car.

“Good,” he replies.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you so much earlier. I know you don’t like it when people yell at you because it reminds of, you know… that place. It’s just with everything happening lately and this weird emotional turmoil I can sense you in through the bond, I’m getting riled up quite easily.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I know you’re not going to hurt me when you yell.”

Felicity gazes at him with a sad expression. “Really? Because you’ve been flinching and pulling away from me a lot today.”

Diggle coughs loudly, and pointedly. Whipping around, Oliver bares his teeth and growls at him, but Felicity doesn’t seem to really know what’s going on, just appearing a bit confused.

“I know you’re not going to hurt me, Felicity, I promise. The withdrawal isn’t your fault. It’s just… me.”

“It feels like it’s my fault.”

He shakes his head. “I swear, it’s not,” he reassures her. Although that’s sort of a lie, because it’s the courting, and that does involve her. “I’m just getting to terms with some things and need a little bit of space.”

“Oh. Do - do you need me to move out of your room?”

“What? No!” he protests immediately. “Definitely not.”

“But you just said you need -”

“Emotional space,” he cuts in. “Emotional, not physical. I should have been clearer.”

“The pulling away feels more physical than emotional,” Felicity says. She doesn’t look upset, exactly, but she does seem weary. “But if you say so, sure. I can be patient with you, Oliver. I’ll give you all the time in the world if you want it. But please don’t pull away from me entirely to the point where I can’t reach you, okay? I worry about you enough.”

“I’m staying right here,” the Bellator murmurs, wanting so badly to press a loving kiss to her forehead but desperately fighting that urge. Clearing his throat and changing the subject to try and ignore that feeling of needing to hug his mate, he says, “I’m excited about going back to the Foundry.”

“Me too,” Felicity grins. “It was your first home in the city. That’s where we first met.”

Oliver nods, smiling happily back at her. “I growled at you.”

“You were scary,” his mate remembers, and there’s a strangely wistful tone to her voice. “But then you let me examine your computer systems, had a panic attack and I realised you’re about as terrifying as a puppy.”

Wrinkling his nose, Oliver complains, “Come on, a puppy? Really?”

“Snappy but pretty adorable,” Felicity laughs. “We introduced you to pizza and ice cream the next day, do you remember that?”

“You and Laurel argued about whether pineapple should be allowed to be a pizza topping.” He yawns.

“Are you tired?” she asks him, her brow creasing in worry.

“Hmm,” he nods.

Caitlin leans in, causing them both to jump at the sudden reminder that they are not alone in the car. “Feeling fatigued is a symptom of pregnancy,” the doctor whispers. “You should have a nap if you feel tired.”

“I don’t want to,” Oliver responds, staring out of the window and watching with interest as houses and trees fly by, all a massive, never-ending blur.

The doctor frowns, but Felicity mutters, “Nightmares,” as an explanation.

“If it looks like you’re having a nightmare, we’ll wake you up,” Caitlin offers.

Oliver shakes his head vehemently in protest. “No. You don’t want to do that. I - I could get violent. I could hurt you accidentally. When I wake up from the nightmares, I don’t often know where I am or what’s going on immediately. I panic. If you’re touching me or near me, I could mistake you for somebody from _that place_ and…”

“I won’t let you hurt anybody,” Felicity cuts him off, her voice firm and unyielding. “You need to rest, Oliver.”

“I don’t -”

“Rest,” Felicity repeats, and this time there is a hint of alpha command in her voice. Oliver instantly submits due to the use of that tone, eyes lowered downwards and arms wrapped around his knees as much as he can while pregnant. “Even if you don’t sleep. Just close your eyes and rest.”

“Yes, okay,” he murmurs.

His mate’s hand falls onto his arm, massaging gently as she guides his head down onto her shoulder. The Bellator tenses, shifting as he prepares to move away. “Just let me do this,” his mate whispers, pleading. “Please. Just let me do this.”

He relents. He nuzzles into her neck, her scent immediately calming him. As the Bellator closes his eyes, he thinks he feels Felicity’s fingers brush against his belly, hears her gentle, affectionate purr. Rumbling deeply in response, Oliver doesn’t slip off to sleep, but allows his mind to drift off, his concerns and anxieties falling away into the back of his consciousness and leaving blissful, peaceful blankness behind.

* * *

_Oliver didn’t return to the pack for two days. Seeing as how Shado, Sara and Slade didn’t seem to care about him anymore, he didn’t see the point. He could look after himself and the baby. Surprisingly, he felt a lot more mentally stable since he wasn’t being forced to watch the pack dote over the young omega they’d replaced him with. He set up a little camp beside the freshwater pool so he had easy access to drinking water and continued to make the short journey down to the gates, where he met Ivo and the keeper every morning and evening._

_Oliver could tell that they were worried about him. Ivo insisted on giving him a physical check over with every meal, and the keeper refused to leave the enclosure unless he’d seen the archer eat and take his prenatal vitamins. They were probably most concerned about the fact that Oliver ignored their suggestions to go back and live with the pack. Ivo had suggested the initial reunion of Oliver and the pack, and seemed disappointed that his plan for the pack to support the Bellator through his pregnancy and depression hadn’t worked out. The keeper enjoyed raving and ranting that he’d been right all along that introducing the pack into Oliver’s enclosure was a bad idea._

_The third morning alone, however, Oliver headed down to the gates to find the clearing empty, except for a small woven basket and the little plastic wallet for his vitamin pill. He waited, hunched in the bushes with narrowed eyes, for Ivo and the keeper to appear, but after ten minutes of no movement, he decided that they weren’t coming. Slinking out of the vegetation, he quickly downed the pill dry so he could focus on investigating the basket._

_He reared back in astonishment and suspicion when the basket jolted, leaning to the side as soft, distressed mewling sounded from within it. Curiosity winning over hesitance, Oliver slowly approached and took the lid off, sniffing cautiously._

_There was a tiny kitten inside. He wasn’t certain what species it was, as it had quite generic markings, but it was definitely a wildcat kitten; it had sandy brown fur with dark chocolate brown markings._

_Deciding that a wild animal that small couldn’t do him any harm, Oliver lifted the kitten out of the basket and cradled it to his chest. He began to croon comfortingly as the small cat bleated in fear again. Stroking down the tiny animal’s back, he stood and began heading back into the wooded area of the enclosure. Ivo and the keeper must have dropped the kitten off, as no animals entered the enclosure without their say-so. Since the kit obviously didn’t have a mother to take care of it, Oliver would have to._

_As the creature rubbed its tiny head against his neck, nuzzling under his chin, the Bellator felt a deep, protective urge blossom within. It triggered him to purr soothingly at the kit, nosing at its soft, mottled pelt. He jumped, however, when he felt small fangs scrape at his collarbone, the kitten trying to gnaw at his skin. It was hungry. It was his duty to feed it._

_But the only food in the enclosure was the cured dry meat slices and fresh smoked fish that the pack stored in their den._

_Oliver stopped in place and snorted angrily. Ivo and the keeper were attempting to trick him into returning to the pack. They knew that the kitten would become hungry and that Oliver would have to feed it, so they didn’t give him any food so he’d be forced to go back to Slade, Shado, Sara and Barry to get some._

_He didn’t like the idea of going back. He didn’t want to be faced with seeing them ignoring him again. He didn’t want to be reminded that he’d been replaced by somebody younger, stronger and happier._

_But he had to get food for the kitten._

_In the end, he snuck back into the den - not that Slade, Shado and Sara would have noticed him anyway if he weren’t stealthy. They were doting over Barry still, who this time was weaving a basket out of palm leaves. Oliver sat down in the corner of the shelter once he’d grabbed a sliver of salted freshwater fish fillet from their food store. It made him boil in anger at the thought that it might have been the fish that the pack had been tutoring Barry in gutting the other day. But he wasn’t going to be eating it - the kitten was._

Because the kit didn’t have properly developed fangs or teeth yet due to its young age, Oliver had to chew the fish up a little before feeding it. He smiled and gently stroked down the kitten’s back as it hastily gulped the fish down. It’s short tail lashed from side to side, thumping lightly against the Bellator’s thigh.

_“What’s that?”_

_Oliver raised his head and bared his teeth in a growl when he saw that Barry was standing at the fringes of the shelter, blinking at the kitten in intrigue. Barry wasn’t welcome. And he was definitely not allowed near Oliver’s new charge. The pregnancy hormones were increasing his protective urges, making him want to lunge at Barry’s throat if he even attempted to touch the kit._

_The young omega completely ignored Oliver’s warning snarl, however, and stumbled forwards, eyes wide with delight as he asked, “Is that a kitty?”_

_When Barry was barely three metres away from him, Oliver leapt to his feet with the kitten held tightly to his chest, hefting a ferocious snarl. Yelping, Barry backed away swiftly with a terrified expression. He scampered out of the shelter, whimpering. Huffing in satisfaction, Oliver knelt to pick up the leaf with the last bits of the fish on and began exiting the shelter, planning on making his escape and getting far away from the den before there was a chance that the rest of the pack could confront him._

_As he just reached the den border, however, he heard a howl of anger behind him. Whipping around, Oliver rumbled, standing his ground as Slade stormed towards him. Sara, Shado and a sniffling Barry followed behind him._

_“Why’d you upset the kid?” Slade accused._

_Oliver turned away from him dismissively. He started to walk away again when a hand caught his arm. As soon as the older man made contact with him, Oliver turned around and roared fiercely, dropping the leaf with the fish so he could use that arm to roughly shove Slade away from him. The alpha staggered back from him, an expression of shock mixed with fury on his face. Retreating away from the threat immediately, Oliver chittered to the kitten when it made a scared noise, wiggling in his grasp._

_Slade started to snarl again, stalking forwards, but his growl quickly tapered off as he was stopped in his tracks by Shado, who was gazing pointedly at the small animal in Oliver’s hold._

_“Oliver,_ xiǎo láng, _where did you get the clouded leopard kitten from?” Shado questioned, keeping her voice calm and friendly, but Oliver could sense her apprehensive and frightened chemosignals._

 _“I thought HE was your_ xiǎo láng, _not me,” Oliver muttered bitterly. When Shado looked bemused, he cast a disdainful glance at the young omega hiding behind her, top lip turning up in a hateful snarl._

 _“No,” Shado said patiently. “He is my_ xiǎoxióng, _not my_ xiǎo láng. _Barry is my bear cub, while you are my wolf pup.”_

_If anything, that comment just made Oliver angrier. “I’m not a puppy that’s going to follow you around and obey your every order!”_

_Shado looked shocked. “I… was not implying that.”_

_“Right,” he said, acid in his voice. “I’m not an obedient, doting little puppy. I’m the runt of the litter who gets pushed aside for another stronger, better looking, happier puppy. I’m the one you’d rather do without, the one who always gets in the way.”_

_There was a beat of glacial silence. The stiffness in Slade’s shoulders seemed to have released, and he appeared to look more ashamed than enraged at this point. Both Shado and Sara had expressions of horrified guilt on their faces._

_“Is that how you feel?” Sara asked quietly. “Like we don’t care about you? Because that’s not true. You’re important to us.”_

_Oliver levelled a hard gaze at her. “Where have I been for the last two days?”_

_Sara shifted, looking uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”_

_“Exactly that. Where do you think I’ve been for the last two days?”_

_Sara quickly glanced over at Shado and Slade, eyes wide and frantic. The beta and alpha looked slightly nauseous, shaking their heads. Nobody answered for a few seconds, until Sara offered weakly, “In the shelter?”_

_Oliver scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” Wheeling around, he nuzzled into the kitten’s scruff as he strode away, calling back firmly, “Leave me alone. I don’t need any of you. I’ll look after the baby and myself.”_

_He heard Sara make an upset noise as he walked off, but didn’t pause, continuing without glancing back._

_The last thing Oliver heard as he vanished into the bushes was Slade yelling, “They gave you that kitten to teach you an object lesson, kid! Don’t get attached to it - you’re not gonna have it for long!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos and comment :)
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Why We Do Not Speak Of What Happened With The Coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517818) by [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13)




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